Bardo
by Eggsbenedictus
Summary: Stiles wakes up in an unfamiliar place, a city that seems completely abandoned and wrecked. He soon finds out why as a horrific shadow-like creatures chase after him, fully intent on bathing in his blood. He is saved by a strange, armed and dangerous girl who tells him his best chances lie with her. After the encounter with the creature, he is inclined to believe her.
1. An unfamiliar setting

Hey there. I've started writing this story quite a while ago and am several chapters in. I'm going to slowly start releasing them if it's well recieved. The story revolves completely around Stiles and there are only minor mentions of other characters in the series.

Let me know what you guys think. 

* * *

It was cold, and dark when he opened his eyes. A stone cold pavement beneath him, stretching goosebumps over his skin. His lids were heavy and keenly sticking together as if he had slept for days. His legs shifted, crossing one another so that both could feel the ground beneath them. His mouth was dry and tasted of metal, his head filled with cotton that was oozing out of his ears as he sat up. He eyed himself, his simple grey shirt was perfectly clean, and his jeans were spotless. Instantly his hand reached for his brow as his head began to pound. What had happened?

He pushed himself off the ground, steadying himself against a brick wall he found on his right. His vision was spinning but he was sure he didn't recognise what he was looking at. Where in the hell had he woken up?

He found himself a city, an extremely empty and creepy city. There were large concrete office buildings, with windows shattered and boarded back up. There was filth and garbage coating the streets, most of which were flyers. The kind that would be handed to you as you passed an ill-smelling and quite possibly high homeless person. They were white, originally, with a single black sentence on it on bold. "Don't touch the shadows."

How very annoying cryptic. If that was supposed to be some life-changing stick it to the man mantra, they might want to reconsider their presentation.

If he didn't know any better, he'd think that he had somehow wound up in some post-apocalyptic time, where Russia and America had gone to war and everything was blown to smithereens, only leading to an outbreak of disease, which in turn lead to a zombie outbreak. But luckily he wasn't thinking that, else he'd be freaking out.

There was no one to be seen. Cars had been abandoned by people that didn't get their license on their parking skills, suitcases, bikes, even bags of yet to be identified goods were scattered over the street. Had there been some kind of evacuation? How long had he been out for? And why was he in a different city?!

Where was everyone?!

His eyes spread wide in realisation, his head whined as he tried to remember. The last thing he remembered as an earth-shattering scream. Lydia's scream, he'd recognise it anywhere. She was screaming, not in fear or frustration, what was she screaming?

His stomach churned as his head whipped round with a sound, forcing him back to the situation at hand. Breath escaped him in a grunt, a loud one at that, as his mind refused to offer him any other intelligence. He pushed himself off the wall as a sound, other than his own, erupted somewhere down the street. A bellowing, stomach twisting, heart stopping voice, calling him.

It was muffled and breathy, like its mouth was ajar, and held there. His hand quivered, as it dawned on him. He recognised that voice, it had been plaguing his dreams, and even his waking hours, gnawing at the back of his head. His legs pulled at him, trying to force him to move, but his body wouldn't comply. His feet were welded to the concrete tiles.

The voice carried on, towards him, growing frightfully louder with every step it took. Stiles squinted, trying to clear up his vision. The lighting was scarce, only a few of the lanterns were actually functional, and the moon was shrouded by thick thunderclouds. The voice laughed.

At the corner of the street, beneath a dead light, a shadow stirred. From the darkness a black oozing substance rose, freakishly being shaped into a person, dark slivers of blood and the ivory of teeth stuck in its body, they shimmered as a stroke of light hit them.

Stiles pulled at his feet, his eyes wide as he muttered underneath his breath. Instantly he turned from whatever abomination was calling his name, and ran faster than he'd ever thought possible. He stumbled now and again, as his heart started pounding louder. His hands still shook, but more with adrenaline than fear, though he broke out in cold sweat as a roaring voice followed him with an impressive speed.

He had to hide, he had to lose it.

His eyes pulled to their corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was chasing him, too afraid to turn his head around completely, and finding it inches from his face. His lungs cried, as the metal taste in his mouth worsened. He closed his mouth firmly, forcing him to violently breath through his nose, hoping that would ease the stabbing feeling in his side. He wasn't the most athletic, but if he was going to die because he skipped leg day, he'd be...genuinely upset.

He turned a corner at random, praying to some deity that he had chosen the one alley that did not have a dead end. The creature was still behind him, though Stiles hadn't heard it in a while, he was convinced it was still there. That dark, gooping- whatever it was. A shadow would be the best way to name it, it did crawl out of the shadows at least. Perhaps that's what the notes meant. Were those things everywhere? Was that why this city had been abandoned?

His hand trailed over the fire escapes as he ran, muttering to himself, blinking rapidly, trying to come up with some sort of plan. His panic became audible as his chest skidded over the rough ground, his leg sticking up for only a moment before scrabbling to his feet, hand smacked against the brick wall. There were black dots dancing across his vision from the fall. "no no no no no no..." He had chosen an Alley with a dead end. "ahhh...ehhh" he uttered, desperately pressing against the wall, as if that would make it budge. His eyes darted as the shadow stood a few meters from him, looking for some kind of weapon, but finding nothing. His shaking hands found their way out in front of him, balling into fists, as he clumsily took on a pose he had seen in boxing matches he'd seen on TV.

A roaring laugh escaped the shadow's jaws. As if it was mocking him, or at least his efforts to defend himself. Stiles winced as the creature crept closer, raising a clawed hand towards him, it's nails not like a werewolf's, longer, like knives. He wanted to shout or scream for aid, for someone to help him, for someone to wake him up from this horrid dream, but his throat could only managed a whisper, voicing his panic.

Suddenly, a muffled shout broke through, it was higher and more human than that the creature had made, and it too seemed surprised to hear it. It shifted, turning only its head around. Stiles shivered in disgust. "dude..." Instantly, he threw up his hands, covering his ears as a loud shot was fired, he squinted and hunched only to see the creature's head splatter onto the walls, and it's slimy body disintegrate into shadow. Revealing a girl behind it.

She stood widespread, with one hand wielding a shotgun in her left hand, pointing at the disintegrating fiend, her other reaching for her mouth where an apple was stuck between her teeth. She plucked it from between her lips and chewed a piece loudly. "You aight?" She asked, her mouth still filled with fruit. Stiles straitened himself, shaking his head slightly. "yeah..." he muttered, not sure of himself. She took another bite while sizing him up, her eyes trailing over his body. It left him feeling like he should be striking a pose, or positioning himself somehow that he'd seem more...more.

"You'd better come with me then..." she said, while clicking her tongue and turning away from him, seemingly not interested or bothered by the circumstances. Stiles twitched. "Hey no, hold on!" he called, willing his legs to stop being spaghetti. "What was that?! Who are you? Where am I?" he called as he followed her out of the alley, carefully dodging the spot where the thing had been. "Hey!"

The girl turned on her heel, tossing the carcass onto the street and wiping her mouth with her wrist. There was an amused look in her grey coloured eyes, as if he was asking for something as ordinary as the time. "It's night time." she said, flicking her hand to motion him closer. "Better keep up with me, we gotta get you off the streets." she added, gesturing at the gun strapped to her thigh. She was armed to her teeth. She was holding a shotgun, had a handgun strapped to her thigh, a knife to her ankle, a rifle to her back, as well as a sword. Her trousers had many pockets, no doubt filled with rounds of ammunition, and even more hiding in the pouch at her hip.

Stiles had no trouble believing her words, and reckoned his best chances of survival were with her. Where ever he was, or whatever had been chasing him, he would not be able to fight it. She had been the only other person he'd encountered, and she certainly seemed to know what was going on, and so, he nodded. "yeah." he said, shaken and peering over his shoulder, to find her standing closer as he whipped back his head.

"What's your name?" she asked sweetly, her face coated with a thin layer of dirt, covering old scratches and scars. She was covered in them, he could only see her arms, a part of her chest, her neck and her face, but he had already counted more than a dozen scars. The most prominent on her right temple, it was thick like a vein, and ran from her hairline to her cheekbone and eye. Stiles couldn't help but swallow down some pity, looking at her. For a girl to have a scar like that, he imagined she cried as it healed. Or maybe she was the kind that accepted these things, and didn't care. Judging from her appearance, the latter might be in place.

Her hair wasn't lushly framing her face, in curls and length, or even cared for, it was short, ragged and he was relatively sure she'd cut it herself. Her clothes were functional, not fashionable. Her face wasn't even washed, and he was pretty sure there was a bit of apple stuck to her chin. She raised her thick brow, licking her lower lip and squinting her eyes. "Stiles." he snapped, suddenly very aware that she had caught him staring. "Charlie." she said, while nodding.

"Lesson number one, stiles. Remember it. Your name represents who you are, and it's the first thing they'll try to take from you." She murmured absently. "If anyone asks you for it, lie." She continued.

"Who will?! What is going on?!" Stiles tried, growing more frustrated by the minute. She squinted, and licked her lips, contemplating whether she would answer him or not. Instead she held out her free hand, it was bandaged by a cloth long past its prime, discoloured with blood. Stiles hesitated and eyed it for a moment until she flicked her head. He took it, wincing at the feel of the cloth. "that's not hygienic..." he muttered under his breath, his right eye squinting at the sensation.

"There's a lot to tell you." she started, jerking his hand to start walking again, peering over her shoulder before joining him in a fast pace. "Stay close to me, and walk fast. I'll explain everything when we're home." she said, as if they had always shared one. Stiles turned to her, a face already made, ready to give her lip on her statement, but her expression gave him pause. She looked stern, yet concerned, not for herself, but for him. There was a sense of urgency around her. She playfully smiled at him, catching him staring at her again. Her smile grew wider as a roar echoed in the distance.

A shiver shot through his spine, but her hand grew warmer in his. His hand got clam with sweat, as another scream bellowed through the street behind them. She chuckled. "I'll let you hold my gun if it makes you feel better." She offered, strained under heavy breath.

"You don't happen to have a bat do you?" he answered, pleased with his own inside joke, though she would not understand it.


	2. Questions and shame

Her home was an unusual one at best. It was surrounded by barbed wire. With lit braziers lined against the fence, all around a small office building. They entered through a gate lined with thick wet ropes, which she gracelessly whipped over their heads, dripping onto their hair as they passed underneath, causing stiles to flinch and make a disgusted face.

"...I like your place.." he said, trying to contain his sarcasm, eyeing the place, dodging the lit grates as she dragged him to the door. "wait till you see the inside." She murmured, raising her brow quickly. As the door opened, he was momentarily blinded by numerous lights lit inside. "Oh my god!" he muttered, squinting and shielding his eyes with his arm.

She chuckled, and let go of his hand. It was only then that he noticed that she had held it all this time. He shook it quickly and pocketed it blindly, slightly embarrassed to find it as clammy as it was. His eyes adjusted, his lids revealed an excessively lit, but seemingly normal room. There was a couch, a table, and everything you would expect in a living room, a bit shabby if anything, as if it were gathered at a ordinary yard sale, though it was all lined with candles, wax lights and lamps. "...at least it's well lit." Stiles offered, throwing up his shoulders and pulling a face. Who would set up home in a place like this?

She slapped her gun onto the table, and de-armed herself swiftly, letting out a noise with every weapon. She stretched and popped her joints, moaning. Stiles shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do with himself. The girl arched her back, and twisted towards him, a dull expression set on her face, as he arched his brow and bulged his eyes, edging her on to start her explanation. "you're going to want to sit down for this."

"I'm fine." Stiles insisted, giving her a reassuring nod in case she didn't believe him. She offered up her hands in acceptance and lifted herself onto the counter next to her weapons, her hands holding her upright, her feet gently dangling back against the wood with mild thuds. She scraped her throat and pulled a face, searching for the words. "I hate this part." she muttered, and ran her hand through her shaggy black hair.

His lower lip pressed firmly against his upper as his mind raked over his situation. He blinked involuntarily, trying to bind his emotions. His mouth still tasted of blood, his chest still felt empty, remembering the shadows and the empty streets "Am I dead?"

She shook her head, allowing him an audible sigh of relief, however short lived. "not if I can help it." she said, offering sympathetic eyes as he snapped towards her, a feeble hand raised. "wh-what does that even mean?!" he called, his mouth set in a wide O.

She bit her lip and raised her shoulders again. "Sit down." she repeated, tilting her head.

"I don't want to fucking sit down! I want you to tell me what's going on!" he shouted sharply, throwing about his arms about, instantly regretting it as her jaw tightened with a click. "what's going on..." he pleaded softer this time, as he stood closer to her.

She squinted again and licked her lips. "well, you're not dead." she started. "yet. You're not exactly alive either." Stiles frowned. "I'm never good at explaining this part, silly really. I've done it so often." He nudged his head, edging her to go on.

"Okay, well here goes. You aren't alive, nor are you dead. I don't know your specific situation, but if you're here, you're most likely in a comatose state. There've been others like you, quite a few actually." She started, earning a confused face from her companion. So she tried again. "You know that comas are tricky right. That its always a gamble if they'll wake up or not?" Stiles nodded quickly. "This is why. They come here, to their personal battleground, where they fight, to wake up. Or die"

Stiles' heart dropped into a quickened beat. "Bardo." he muttered, repeating what Kira had once told him and Scott. The place between life and death. "Funny, someone else used that word once too..." the girl muttered. It made sense, however confusingly she put it. This place, the headaches and shadows weren't unusual in their supernatural world but what reason would she have to lie? He couldn't for the life of him recall his last memory, only lydia's scream. "I'm in a coma?" he muttered, clutching his head. She nodded, her feet still playfully dangling. His hand began to shake as it reached "count my fingers." he said, instructing himself. His hand appeared vague only for a moment but then clearly depicted five fingers. A breath escaped him, before he sucked it in again, his eyes wide with realisation "c-can I hurt anyone?"

She stared at him, and shook her head. His breathing was becoming more rapid as the his thoughts progressed. "You should eat something." she said. His eyes shot up to meet her, a confused expression on his face. "I'm in a coma! Why would I eat something. I'm not even real!" he called, as she jumped off the counter. "You're real, your soul, your mind are very much real. Soul needs nourishment just like the body does, and eating is the easiest way to feed it. Well, in this place anyway." she said, gently poking his chest before opening the fridge. "You like apples?"

"those shadows..." Stiles continued, ignoring the apple pressed into his hand. She nodded while taking a bite. "Those are your personal tormentors." she said, as if she were talking about the weather. "Not all of them, mind you. Only the ones that are coming after you." she added, rolling a piece of fruit in her open mouth. "oh my god.." Stiles' face fell, his complexion shading to white with every sentence. His heart pumping more wildly, his breathing irregular, he muffled himself, pulling at his lips.

He turned towards her. "I need you to be honest with me." he said, darkly. "Is this real?" She nodded. "You die here, you die out there." she said, with a jerk of her brow.

Another bit of apple was being bitten off and loudly chewed, adding to the sweat on his brow. "but." she said, causing stiles to whip around his head, wondering what bad news she could possibly add to this. "That's where I come in." Her face was practically beaming with confidence as she took another bite. "I'm your rig in the system, buddy!" she said, playfully punching him against the shoulder, looking quite proud of herself. "Rig?" Stiles repeated, a painful expression set on his face, his brow fused together.

"Yeap. I'm going to help you wake up." she declared. "I've got experience see, woken up dozens of people that come here." she explained, rubbing some dirt from her eye. "You, wake people up?" Stiles repeated, gesturing with his hand, trying to comprehend what she just told him. She nodded and proclaimed herself the reverse sand-man.

"Well that's great! Everything is solved!" Stiles threw at her, sarcastically. "What do you shake me a little, throw some water in my face, what?!" he bit, raising his voice with every word. "What are you going to do to wake me up?! I'm in a coma! What are you going to do?!" he shouted, his hand firmly stuck in his hairline, pulling at his roots.

"I'm going to save you." she said calmly, placing her half eaten apple on the counter, and wiping her wet hand on her top. Stiles' hand dropped as she spoke, and dangled at his side. "You're going to save yourself, kid" she clarified. "And I'm going to teach you how."

Stiles' exhaled, calming himself, wishing that this was all a bad dream. "Now, eat your apple." She instructed and opened a cupboard above the stove, and picked up a pistol found there. It was only then that Stiles started to wonder about this mysterious girl that just happened to be there to save him before he got his ass handed to him. How old was she exactly, and how long had she been here. Had she gotten those scars here? Fighting these shadows?

"so... are you?" he asked, carefully, pursing his lip. She looked at him over her shoulder, offering a small smile. "I'm in a coma, too." she explained. Stiles nodded, feeling as if he should apologise for having asked the question. "Have been for seven years." She added, jerking her eyebrow quickly settling the gun in front of her guest. "Seven years?!" Stiles called, his jaw practically resting on his chest. "Why haven't you woken up?" he questioned, slightly more composed than before.

She squinted, and put his hand on the gun, urging him to keep that on his person. "Eat your apple." she repeated, her voice stern, her lips tight. She wasn't a big fan of answering questions, she never had been, and they always did ask them. Simply saying some things out loud were hurtful, and he really didn't need to hear them.

She turned on her heel, made her way to a door on the other side, the heel of her boot clacking loudly on the wooden floor boards, she looked at him once, before slipping into another room, leaving stiles on his own.

Whom quickly whipped out his hand, to count his fingers again. He sighed as there were only five on each hand. He traced the apple with his nail, slightly cutting its skin. He didn't really feel like eating, he wasn't hungry, at all. Normally he'd be stuffing his face by now, teenage grow spurts and all that, or any other good excuse to binge his way through a fridge. He didn't have an appetite, a side effect of being comatose no doubt. Patients get fed through tubes.

He wondered what he looked like, lying in a bed, plastic lines attached to him, in a hospital gown that would show his butt crack were he to get up, machines beeping at his side. His father no doubt sitting by his bed, holding his hand. If he was, stiles couldn't feel it, there wasn't anything touching his hand, besides that stupid apple she kept forcing onto him.

He angrily took a bite, chewing it more violently as he began to realise it tasted of nothing. He could feel the texture in his mouth, there was no flavour what so ever. Nothing, like he was only breathing. Which seemed to be only thing he was good at. He was always in the way, always the weak one that needed to be protected. He was in a fucking coma and still he needed someone to save his ass. Someone he didn't even know. He firmly pressed his free hand against his forehead and let out a beastly noise, cleansing him of his frustration, or at least attempting to.

The girl reappeared, standing in the doorway. "Come on." she said, beckoning sadly with a short movement of her head. Stiles nodded, stepping towards his host, numbly. She took his hand, and squeezed it softly as she pulled him into her bedroom, and through to an attached bathroom. It was similar to the one found in the Beacon high shower room. Though smaller and less ominous with her there and extremely bright lights looming above them. The water was crashing down from the four shower heads. It was only then that Stiles picked up on its sound. It was almost deafening standing in the middle of them.

She squeezed his hand again once, and he looked down at her, only noticing now that she was substantially shorter without her boots. He wondered when she had taken them off. "uh..You want me to take a shower?" Stiles asked, unsure of what conclusion to draw there. She didn't reply, and simply dragged him towards where the water clashed down. She had stepped under a stream, fully clothed, and pulled at his arm. She seemed serene standing under the head, her eyes closed, water pouring down her face, her black hair sticking to her cheek and jaw like a wet cloth on porcelain.

Stiles head dropped, as he picked up on her intentions and stood under a beam next to her, allowing the water to encase him. Soaking his clothes, awkwardly sticking them to his skin. He felt like a cat caught in the rain, uncomfortable and disappointed with its owner. He scraped his throat, waiting for some kind of explanation why his underwear needed to be soaked. Blindly she nodded, as if she had seen his expression.

"Breathe." She said, arching her own back and leaning back her head, exposing her neck. Stiles shifted his weight from one leg to the other. She squeezed again, her eyelids flickering. He took in a deep breath."Breathe" she repeated, water dripping over her lips as she spoke, her chest rising and falling at a soothing rate, almost intoxicating. Without realising, he copied her, his chest rising with her, his eyelids slowly closing. The water was warm, soothingly so, tingling his skin as the droplets found their way down to his feet. He felt like he could stay there for a while longer, if not forever.

She opened her eyes to look at him, skin reddening, his hair forced against his scalp. She brushed a finger against the side of his hand. She said something, almost in a whisper. She turned her tap, and then his, silencing their showers. He peered through his lids to look at her, almost upset that she had taken him from his trance. He had felt at ease, standing there, for the first time since he woke up in this god awful place.

An instant rush of cold came over him, though the room was filled with plenty of steam. As soon as the sound died down, his ears were filled with a far less pleasant noise. His face instantly fell as a certain voice rang. The voice he had heard earlier that very day, whispering what he hated most. "Let me in..." Its voice raspy and low.

His eyes changed, a fearful expression set on his lips, trembling. "no no no no." he whispered, clenching his head. The girl shifted and cupped both of his ears and pulled herself closer to him. "This is the first step" she said, whispering. "Stiles, they move through shadow. They can't enter here, the only darkness to be found, is inside your head." she urged as he became paler by the second, his expression bewildering, shifting between her hands, until he started to scream.

The voice was now upon him, penetrating his mind. He didn't need to ask it for its name, as he already knew it. The girl's voice bellowed over it but her words made no sense whatsoever. Her hands were gentle and kind as they shifted his screaming face, tilting up his chin, forcing him to look directly into the light. He hissed and squinted, as it burned him.

"Let in the light."she said, softly, her wet fingers on his temples, pushing gently. "Brighten your mind. Turn on the light." she explained. The mere words were pissing him off to the extreme. What kind of fortune-cookie bullshit was she spewing? It hurt immensely to open his eyes completely, he wanted to turn to her and rip open her throat, tear her limb from limb, have her blood coating him, dripping through his clothing, teasing his skin. He wanted to hear her scream, hear her plead for her life.

"Turn on the light!" she called, her voice dangerously weak. His eye drew to its corner to look at her, only noticing then his hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing. Disgusted and shocked he pulled back, but they didn't move. His skinny fingers were stuck to her skin. He could feel her pulse, rapid and frantic against him. His chest closed, his lungs still, as he felt empowered by her struggling eyes. "Oh my god." he muttered, his words thick with pleasure instead of the panic that he intended. Disgusted by himself he tried to turn from her, his stomach sour with nausea. His voice was heavy with a ring that wasn't his own. He forced a gasp out of her, his vision veiled by darkness. The girl's trembling hand reached for him, touching his chin, tilting it upwards weakly. "Stiles the light.."

Stiles was now a vision not natural. His mouth was ajar, thick stings of saliva connecting his jaws, grunting breathes escaping, his eyes blankly shooting around it's socket, his veins thick and discoloured.

Every muscle in his body worked against him as he desperately tried to tilt his head and look upwards as the girl had directed. A bloody taste filled his mouth, and he was certain he popped a blood vessel or tore a muscle in his neck as a numbing feeling spread to his face. He spread his eyes as widely as possibly, the light burning into his iris. He screamed so sharply he was certain his vocal cords would snap and fought the urge to cover his eyes, to shield himself. He held his hands in place, around the girl's neck, tightening them even further.

"Get out!" he cursed, screaming at himself as the mist inside his head began to dissipate. He sucked in a breath as he felt strength return to him. His eyes felt dry, but not painful. He drew back his hands, noticing where they lingered. The girl instantly collapsed onto the floor, gasping and coughing violently. "T-thats it." She praised, clutching her own neck, smiling up at him. "oh my god." he called weakly, falling to his knees beside her, his hands searching. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" he called, tears stinging behind his eyes as her lungs fought to regain their calm.

She whipped her head upwards, looking at him, her hair sticking to her scalp. "that's some...personal tormentor you've got there, Stiles." she whispered, her voice broken. "Usually the shadows embody guilt, regret, angst, fear, hell even bad decisions. But that was some full blown possession right there." she continued, her voice strained but audible.

"I'm so sorry, oh my god." he almost chanted, his hands flailing not sure where to put them. They were trembling. The pain and worry etched on his face was something else, she had to fight not to chuckle. "It's okay. You did well..." she said, rubbing her neck absently.

"I don't know what happened. I- Sorry." he muttered, pulling back his hands, too disgusted with himself. She smiled, ever so brightly, showing her teeth. She held out her hand, asking him to help her up. Instantly he scuffled to his feet, awkwardly coming to a standing, reaching out to pull her up. Her limbs were weak, devoid of oxygen and stressed.

She dragged her legs underneath herself and lifted herself on his hands. She was heavier than he would have thought, or perhaps it was simply because of her numbness, but he released an "umpf!" as she came to a standing, tumbling against his chest. She paused there and breathed, clutching his hand as a lifeboat. In any other situation he would have been flushed with embarrassment or perhaps even lust, but now, her leaning against him was only a testimony of what he had done to her. He snorted to keep from breaking down in tears right there.

He wanted to run, as far away as he could get. He was clearly a danger to her, clearly he was not to be trusted. To be taken over just like that, that such rage had filled his veins, for him to derive such a twisted sense of pleasure of her pain. He felt sick. "Stiles." she said, pushing herself from him slowly, steadying herself. He looked down at her, her face showing nothing of what had just transpired.

"When we are stimulated, we feel most alive. That's when we're most vulnerable to the shadows. When we are happy, or at peace, we are most afraid of losing it. That's when they creep into our minds." She looked up at him, her eyes beautifully bright and open. "Our mind is our first and last line of defence, you can't allow them in." her voice had regained it's former stern quality.

Stiles' eyes were wide with guilt and shame, his lower lip firmly pressed to his upper, his throat too closed up to reply to her. She had done it on purpose, standing under that water. It had been a test, or a lesson. She had taken such a huge chance, because she didn't know the evil that had hold over him. She didn't know the monster that slept beneath his skin. She could have died, by his hand.

She stood on her own now, as she casually brushed her wet locks from her eyes. She reached over to Stiles and did the same, though his hair wasn't nearly long enough to impair his vision. "Well done." she praised, as if she knew he needed comforting. He wanted to grab her hands and bury himself in them, but selfishness of that very notion disgusted him even further. She had been hurt, and she needed to comfort him?!

"come on." she said, her hand dragging over his skin before pointing out her way with a swing. With sopping sounds she made her way to the door. Where she paused for a moment, Stiles' eyes trailing her sadly. A sopping sound hit the floor. Shock coated his features as he realised what had made it. Her clothes were in a pile on the tiles of the bathroom, her hands already reaching for the clip of her bra. He would have covered his eyes, had he been able to move them. He could only gawk and the expanse of her skin.

It was absolutely covered in marks. Burns, lacerations, punctures, even bites and an ungodly amount of freckles. "holy god." he breathed. She peered over her shoulder absently, dropping her underwear on the floor as well. Stiles noted that the scar on her lower back trailed halfway over her ass, while her freckles went all the way. "Let's put on something dry, I'll have something to fit you." Her voice was devoid of emotion. It was only then that he realised that she must have gone through this process with every person she woke.

He was no different. She disappeared around the corner. He could hear her rummaging in a drawer in the next room. Did she keep stacks of clothing in all sizes? How many people had passed through her gymnasium home, how many people had stood underneath that shower?

Stiles' head jerked involuntarily, a cold passing through him. He pulled at his wet shirt, uncomfortable taking it off. He wasn't like the other guys, he wasn't ripped. He didn't go to the gym or bench press in the morning. He was athletic sure, he played lacrosse but compared to Scott or Isaac, his physique was a disappointment. He never did like changing his clothes in public. It had taken him months to feel comfortable in the locker room at Beacon high, and he still changed facing his locker and as quickly as possible.

The girl eyed the door, waiting for her guest to make an appearance. Though he remained absent. She smiled to herself and carried a folded pair of slacks and a vest and placed them at the door. "I'll leave them at the door and face the other way." she said, sharply. He didn't answer her, but as soon as a wet thud fell, she toed to the bed and settled there, her back to the door.

Her remark cut into him. He appreciated her consideration but felt embarrassed that she had picked up on it so easily. He felt awkward, stripping there. The room instantly seemed so much bigger, and he felt so much smaller. He cupped himself shielding himself in case she made an appearance after all. He pulled a face, creeping closer to the door, walking sideways so that he would have enough time to turn if she was there, at the door, waiting for him.

He sighed his relief as he found her, back turned to the door, staring at a boarded up window. She too had changed and was now wearing a shirt a few sizes too big, a tiny wet circle at her collar, where her hair had dripped. She had left him with a towel as well, to which he couldn't help but smile. He cleared his throat, signalling her that he had changed clothes. "Thank you." he said more quiet than he thought. She turned only smiled. "How are you feeling?"

A laugh escaped him. "like I should be in a mental institution, but otherwise fantastic!" he offered, his words thick with sarcasm. She nodded, and jerked her head, beckoning him over in the sergeant way she did. Stiles was already getting used to it. "Light's up in a few hours." she informed him as he sat down at the edge of the bed. "training starts tomorrow, best get some sleep." she said, making her way to the top of the bed, folding open the blankets. Stiles shifted on the sheets, already standing before she could say anything.

"I...I uhm, I'll take the couch." he declared as she looked at him funny, slipping her bare legs under the covers. He looked away as he caught a glimpse of her panties. Blue, he registered invulnerably. But just as he turned she said "You have to stay close to me."

He turned to find a strangely stern expression of her face, as if it were of life-altering importance that he was to stay in her room. He eyed the night stand, seeing an impressive arsenal there at the ready. A glint beneath her pillow which he assumed was a knife. She was staring at him. He knew better than to question her, he knew that this was her personal request, not one of her lessons.

His face dropped slightly, submitting and nodding. He took a place beside her, awkwardly shuffling under blankets that seemed too thick for comfort. He stared at the ceiling, simply not knowing what to do with himself, he had not before shared an actual bed with a girl. He'd kissed a few girls, but he was still very much a virgin. Kissing girls is one thing but sleeping next to a one?

She turned and faced him, her wet hair rustling on the pillow. "You okay?" she said in a husk whisper, her voice audibly sick with exhaustion. As she shifted, Stiles' face froze, he couldn't answer her. Her leg touched his, it brushed right past his pant leg, and found a place behind it, loosely hooking him. His heart was beating fast, not knowing what was happening. She was close to him, too close for comfort surely. Then he felt a travelling hand at his side. His nostrils flared as he sucked a breath, his eyes widening. She chuckled. "I'm looking for your hand." she whispered.

He looked at her, slightly embarrassed for his dirty mind. "keep your mind out of the gutter." she scolded, closing her eyes, a smile on her lips. He looked away, as if he had no right to see something so perfect, not after what he had done, not in this place. It was alien to him, a smile so ordinary. Nothing had made him feel so inferior before.

She had found his hand and tangled her fingers between his and pulled it up to her face. He could feel her breath on his skin. It was seemingly calmer for her but he was having heart palpitations. He fought his instincts, of pulling back his hand, scared to offend her, scared to take something away from her.

Perhaps she was the one that needed this, this comfort. Perhaps she needed to hold onto his clammy skinny fingers, and have her leg touch his. Her arms seemed so thin in her massive shirt, she seemed so tiny, so fragile. He more than anyone knew what it was to be helpless. He wondered about the other hand for a moment, the one that was bound with a dirty cloth. Had she redressed it? Was it lying somewhere, limply under the covers? How had she hurt it?

To be numb and at the mercy of someone else. He had gone through it often, the worst when he lay paralysed by the Kanima's venom. No, that was a lie. At least then he couldn't hurt anyone.

Fear wetted his eyes while he stared out in front of him. Simply remembering the nightmare he had gone through only a few days ago trembled his heart. Yet it had been mere minutes for her, since she escaped a death by his hands, and she was laying beside him, her eyes thick with sleep. Her neck discoloured and painful, yet she was smiling.

Why had she not fought against him? She had not struggled in his grip, nor had she made any effort to fight him off. She had just allowed him to strangle her. She did not seem the meek and helpless type, she seemed to type to floor someone with a well timed and well placed punch and giving a kick for good measure. She had shot one of those creepy shadow things in the face, with a shotgun. But then why had she refused to act against him? She had just taken it, he could have killed her and she hadn't made a single effort to free herself, to free save herself.

She lay there beside him, her neck still bruised and discoloured from his fingers, her lids heavy, her face strangely peaceful. Beautiful. Her face was clean now, and it was only then that he could see her freckles, or perhaps he simply hadn't noticed them. Though unlikely, as they were darted over her entire face, numerous, they trailed from her cheeks to her neck and down her shoulders and chest. He stopped there as he pictured the glimpse of her back. The corners of his lips tugged but he ignored them.

She was not holding his hand because she had been so shocked by previous events. She was stronger than that, more than that. Was it for his comfort? Had she lead him to her bed, because she was concerned for his safety? Perhaps this was the way she made sure he was okay. He had choked the breath out of her, and she was concerned about him. Was there nothing that brought pause to this girl? She had just been attacked. He had just attacked her, and now she was laying beside him as if nothing had transpired. She trusted him to be in her bed. She trusted her unconscious self to him, someone who had tried to strangle her. He didn't know whether to smile or feel ashamed.

Her room was bright, obnoxiously so, like every room he'd been in so far. He figured it was to keep the creatures at bay. There was only one window, which was barricaded to a point where no natural light could even find its way inside. Her walls were bland with tape marks here and there, like a child's bedroom, or a teenager's, coated with posters and pictures and removed in a tantrum, corners still sticking against the wall. Faded over time but never completely removed, by choice or lazy disposition. Next to the window, on either side were hench make-do bookcases, seemingly constructed out with wood of unknown origin. They were filled with note books, to the point where there wasn't room left for another volume. Some were bright, some faded, some with spines read bare, some titles were familiar to him, written with markers and pens, some not so much. The sheer volume of her collection was slightly disturbing.

Some of the volumes one would find in any home. He recognised some, like 'the story of red riding hood', 'Wuthering hights' and even 'Harry Potter', but some of them were different. On their spines were just names, first names actually. 'Steven', 'James', 'Emily.P' as if they were records of people. He wanted to get up and search through them, see what was inside them.

She let out a wee noise, breathing against his hand, her eyelids flickering. He decided he would ask her about them in the morning. Until he noticed something. There was not a single speck of dust on them, while the rest of her home seemed to be irregularly cleaned as best. She removed them often, possibly read through them all systematically, read and reread as time dragged on, not allowing the dust to settle on them. He peered at them, counting as he went, calculating to amount of books she would have to handle per day for them to be so spotless. Then she squeezed his hand, her eyes still shut. He couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep but he felt a wave of pity crash over him. Was she lonely? Was she holding his hand because she was lonely?

His chest suddenly felt tight. He sucked in a breath, looking down at her. She was asleep. He realised then that he had been awake for a long while. She could sleep, while he had sat there for hours now, awake, unnatural. She was so very...human. He was envious. She lay there undisturbed, angelic. In a place like this, she could sleep. He had to fight the urge of planting a kiss on her forehead.

He couldn't sleep, he simply couldn't. He was exhausted sure, but he was unable to close his eyes for more than a blink at a time. And so he watched her.


	3. Morning rituals

He snapped out of his thoughts as her face stirred, her nose twitching. A Beastly noise erupted from between her lips, she stirred and stretched, half over him. He awkwardly sucked in a breath as he felt her chest against his arm. She had finally released his hand, and it was only then that he realised how numb it had been. He waved it, stretching his fingers, forcing the blood back to his tips. She was wiggling, her eyes moving frantically beneath her lids. Her legs brushed past him, against him, and for a moment he was almost certain she was going to roll on top of him. He tried to sit up, push himself upwards but she was leaning on him. A strange noise crept from her, drained and breathy. She clawed at the sheets and duvet before opening her eyes and looking at the boy in her bed. Her brow raised instantly, as if she was trying to remember who he was.

"Stiles." He clarified, to which she nodded slowly. He made a face, wrinkling his forehead as she lingered in front of him, just looking at him. She smacked her lips once and turned on her back with one jerking motion. She whipped upright, stretching and arching her her back, moaning and groaning at the effort. She punched him swiftly against the shoulder and rolled out of bed in a graceless manner and popped her joints. "Hey!" he called, rubbing his arm.

Her hand reached beneath her shirt as she turned towards Stiles, not paying attention to his objection. She was scratching her chest bone, her shirt lifted her over arm allowing him a full view of her underwear. But it did not seem to bother her whatsoever. "Wanna grab some breakfast?" she said slurred, still drunk with sleep. He stared at her, wide eyed before looking around trying to look at anything else besides her. Though as if they had a mind of their own they drew back to her legs. She had a bite mark on her inner thigh.

Her shirt slumped back down, and she stood there for a moment, completely still, her eyes drooping. "Breakfast." she repeated, looking at him expectantly. His eyes were still stuck on thighs, though they were now veiled. His head whipped up with a snap "Yeah yeah." he quickly answered. "Breakfast." he added, to which she nodded slowly.

Her feet made flat sounds as she loudly made her way to the kitchen, dodging furniture as she went. Something stirred Stiles. He was convinced that she was going to walk into something and hurt herself, she certainly seemed the type for it. He quickly freed himself from the duvet and followed her, straitening his vest, though he didn't remember moving enough for it to have twisted. Stumbling over his numb limbs, he found her with her forehead against a cupboard her fingers caressing a kettle. "boil..."she whispered.

Stiles took a step back and eyed her. She seemed high as a kite, which was a dangerous thing as this girl kept weaponry in her kitchen. "w-why don't I make the coffee." he offered, stepping closer to her and taking her hands off the heating kettle. She whipped around, as if surprised to see him. "Stiles." She repeated, like a five year old learning a new name. "coffee sucks. I want tea." she demanded, not with the authority he was used to hearing, but with a childlike murmur. She settled on the only stool by the counter, and wrapped her legs around the pole, leaning on her fist.

He opened a Cupboard to find a wide range of bullets and two handguns. He scoffed and opened another to find a box of grenades next to a jar of jam and a box of cereal. "convenient.." he huffed. He found cups and teabags in a wide range of flavours. A purple box seemed nearly empty, he figured it was her favourite.

"I had a dream." she suddenly said, causing him to bump his head against the woodwork. "yeah?" He called emptily, rubbing the spot he'd hit. She didn't continue her story, like that had been the end of the statement, or she had simply decided against telling him. She hid her face in her hands and sighed. The dream had been disturbing or tiring in some way, Stiles assumed and turned back to his kettle. Perhaps dreaming was unusual in this place, he had been surprised that she'd been able to sleep at all.

He didn't feel like asking her more questions, he was being an inconvenience to her with every explanation she had to give him. He was also getting quite sick of finding out new things, life changing things. She would tell them to him as if they were nothing. He couldn't deal with such strength for now. Having her sit there and be drowsy instead of a warrior princess, was relieving for him.

The water boiled, filling the room with hissing sound. Blindly, Stiles moved and prepared the tea, planting a bag neatly in each mug. "sugar?" he asked, to which she snorted unattractively. He didn't have to turn to see that she was nodding excessively.

He stood in front of her, a counter in between them. She absently fingered her mug, dipping her nail into the tea and sucking on it. She complained that the water was too hot, to which he chuckled. She delved into her beverage though it was still fuming and dug at the bag's string with her teeth, which seemed to amuse her substantially. Stiles observed her with a strange fascination, as if watching a dog trying to catch it's own tail. Finally she had managed it, and grinned with the discoloured string snugly stuck between her ivory choppers. She let out a grunt and dropped it onto the counter, where it left a wet dribble. She smacked her lips repeatedly, as if she had gotten completely shit faced the night before and had the worst hangover in history, a grin on her face.

Stiles' eyes trailed over the counter, where still an impressive mount of weapons lay. Coated in dirt and a substance which he identified as blood. His face contorted and he picked up his mug, afraid that something might find its way into his tea.

She suddenly let out a noise and looked at him intently, her nose scrunched up, her legs gently dangling around her stool. She was simply looking at him, in the way a girl looks at a boy. And he replied in a similar manner. In that moment they were perfectly ordinary.

She lowered herself from the stool, her feet dropping with a flat sound. She swayed for a second, holding her head. "Low blood sugar." she whispered, explaining herself as she took his arm to steady herself with for only a brief moment. He immediately strengthened it and grabbed her elbow to support her. She smiled at him, though his face fell instantly having touched her bare skin.

He couldn't tell if it was warm or colder than his own. His eyes trailed to Charlie's neck where last night's evidence was Indisputable. His brief moment of normalcy had been short lived. His mug found its way to his lips in experiment. The seething liquid only nipped at his tongue, but it was enough. He couldn't taste it. He raised his hand but to his disbelief, there were only five fingers there.

A loud chewing noise rang in his ear as he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. He shivered at her touch. A sucking noise followed, as she was still holding the apple in her mouth, and its juice was dribbling down her chin.

"you certainly have a proclivity for apples..." Stiles whispered absently.

She retracted a hand and removed the piece of fruit, sucking a bit from between her teeth. "yeah got a problem with that?" she murmured. "With your face.." she added, as if to spite him. He raised his brow as she paused, seemingly aware of how lame her remark had been. She scraped her throat as he slipped from underneath her hand and pushed himself off the counter, his face blank. She slumped back into his spot, and fingered her mug, taking a swig, squinting her eyes tight. She gulped down the hot fluid and smacked her lips as she finished. A breath escaped her, still carrying the taste.

Her eyes flashed open as if she had just woken up, bright and focussed. "That hit the spot." she said clearly, without slur, to which Stiles nodded. His dad had needed a cup of caffeine to wake up as well, he would make it for him, if he had had a rough night. He would slump into the kitchen table, crankily greeting him and being completely impossible until he had finished his first cup. What he'd give to have that grump sitting in front of him right now, cursing a good morning at him.

"You doing okay there champ?" Charlie asked, lowering herself next to him. He only then noticed the couch near him. She briefly touched the pillow next to her, urging him to sit beside her. He complied reluctantly, but didn't look at her. Her hand lingered over his arm for a moment, pondering whether or not she should touch him as reassurance. "You'll be okay." she muttered emptily.

"Will I?" he said sharply, a string pulling at his upper lip. She let out a heavy breath and took his reluctant hand. He chewed his lip irritably, as he still couldn't tell her temperature. Though his eyes changed as she moved it towards her chest. She jabbed his fingers into the skin above her left breast. "W-what are you doing?" he clumsily asked, his brow reaching for his hairline. "Shut it." she barked, and dug in the fingers deeper, practically forcing them between her ribs.

He was about to pull back his hand, when he realised the point she was making. He couldn't feel their difference in temperature, but he could feel her heartbeat, pounding wildly beneath his fingers. She then moved his hand quickly, to his own chest, forcing it felt against his heart. His was beating as well, slower and softer than hers. Hardly detectable, but it was still very much there. His lips curled as did hers. "You're not gone yet." She said sternly.

He turned towards her "Do you ever have any doubts?" he asked, pulling a face. "Like ever?" he added quickly when she filled her mouth with air, making herself look like an angry blowfish. She shook her head violently as she popped her cheek bubbles. Stiles chuckled briefly, letting go of his breath and nodded. "of course you don't" he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Charlie stirred, fighting the urge to punch him against his shoulder. "Want to go get some breakfast?" She said, to which he emptily nodded.

Her joints creaked as she lifted herself and went into the other room. "Clothes are still wet. But I've got some things for ya" she announced loudly. Stiles pulled a face and lifted himself as well. "You coming or what?" she called, her head popping in at the door opening.

The clothes she handed him seemed ordinary, if he were in a bootcamp. A pair of army printed trousers, which seemed slightly too big on him and had to be rectified with a belt, a black shirt, and dark brown military boots. She lingered for a second, looking at the pile she had handed him. "...we'll pick you up some underwear on the way." she said.

"on our way where?" Stiles questioned, his uneven brows raised curiously. "When we go get breakfast?" she answered numbly, sifting through her drawers. Stiles instantly dropped the clothes that had been handed to him and grabbed her arm. "Out. There?"

Charlie nodded, and placed a hand over his. "It's daytime, we'll be fine." She explained, her voice unfamiliarly warm. Having found what she was looking for, she threw off her shirt and began hooking her bra. She swiftly slipped into a tight black long sleeve and began in search of trousers. "Are you okay back there?" she asked, feeling his eyes searing into her back. A clumsy sound erupted from him, whipping his hand to the back of his head and striking a casual pose.

She turned towards him, stepping into some cargo pants. "Is there something wrong with my body?" she asked plainly as he eyed the wall. He shook his head and blurted a no several times. "Alright then.." she muttered again as she tightened the waist. His eyes crept to her as she fixed the pleads in the fabric and stretched herself. He shook his head. "No, actually." he started. "How can you do that, aren't you ashamed?" He asked, gesturing with his hands.

She stared at him for a moment, raising her brow. "Should I be ashamed? They're only scars." She said sharply. He sucked in his breath and choked on it. "No no no no!" he called. "that's not what I meant. I mean being so...free with it, your body,...changing clothes, I mean you don't seem to care who sees you and.." he muttered, his hand finding a place in his hair.

"I've lived with a lot of people Stiles, you kind of learn to let go of things like that." she said lightly. He smiled halfy, "Ah yeah, I- yeah. Of course." and crouched to pick up his clothes. "eh sorry to bring it up." he muttered, not quite sure how to handle what became of the situation. She smiled, wildly, nodding. "I'm proud of who I am." she explained, grabbing her boots. "You should be too. You have every reason to be." she offered kindly, before slipping out of the door, allowing him some privacy.

Stiles found himself angry at her statement. She had known him for exactly a day, and already she could judge if he had reason to be proud? Who gave her the right? Who was she to know that?

He slipped out of his make-do pyjamas and threw them on the floor, hoping it would release a bit of his irritation, though he was disappointed when they came down in a soft thud. The clothes she had gotten him were clean enough, with a few specks of dirt here and there. He stretched the fabric, hoping to find something wrong with them.

He sighed to himself, stepping out of her bedroom, finding her on the kitchen counter, arming herself. She wore the gun holster she had worn the day before, an extra strap for her sword, and another for the rifle on her back. She filled her already full pouch with two extra bullets, which seemed different from the rest. "ah you're done." she said, noticing him. She gave him a jerk of her head, summoning him to her side.

She held a construction of leather straps out in front of him, brown and repaired often. "Gun holster." she explained as she placed a hand on his chest to measure him up. He nodded slowly "yeah I got it.." he mumbled as he took it from her hands, roughly. Her eyebrow popped as he clasped himself in and tightened it. "Dad's in law enforcement" he snapped.

She let out a cough and a thick and slick "oh", offering him an unimpressed expression. She handed him a box of separate rounds, and told him to load the pistol, she had offered him the day before. Stiles fingered the box, his lip pulling in irritation. He knew how to take care of a gun, he had watched his dad do it every Friday since he was about three years old. And once or twice, especially if he had had a nightmare, he was allowed to help, only of course after the gun had been emptied.

"You'll need to clean that regularly." She called, as if he didn't already know. He just let out a noise in acknowledgement. She seemingly picked up on his mood and answered it with one just as bad. She opened a drawer, and picked out a pair of knives. One broad, slightly blunt and short, another longer and razor-sharp, which she covered in a cloth before handing them to him. She knelt in front of him, and tied a leather strap around his upper leg, making a holster for both of the knives. "This may shift." she said sharply. "Keep an eye on it." He nodded, uncomfortable under her touch.

She shot him a look when whipping back up, her hair stubbornly sticking in her eyes. He answered her eyes with vigour of his own. She nodded, and whipped a baby-vomit-green bag over her shoulder and picked up her shotgun from the counter. "Right."

The door shut behind them with a loud thud, one that echoes through your skin, carrying down your spine. A thud that you can feel, and have to recover from. Stiles' eyes narrowed, faced with natural light once again. Inside he had felt like he was in a different world, a safe haven from the darkness outside, but now, everything seemed as normal as any other day would have been.

The sun was shining, it was slightly cloudy. It was pleasant outside, nice and warm, or at least he thought it was, he could not distinguish between the temperature out here, and inside Charlie's home. She was walking ahead of him, not far mind, but still keeping a considerable distance between them. She looked over her shoulder every few seconds as they exited the gate, checking if he was still behind her. He couldn't hate her for it, but it was pissing him off.

It was suprising really, for the first time in his life, he was armed before something happened, he was prepared, but it didn't feel like he thought it would. He thought he'd feel empowered, or at least more confident, but he didn't. He didn't feel anything special, just like it had already become a part of his every day. He wondered if his dad felt like that too.

Charlie didn't seem particularly cautious, which made him feel less at ease than it ought to have. His hand seemed glued to the knife nearest to him, his fingers found themselves playing with the strap and caressing the hilt as he walked, sometimes he'd bend further down to touch the lower one, other times his hand would reach for the pistol near his chest, wondering how quick he would be if he needed to draw it.

Not that quick drawing a pistol seemed a requirement. The city wasn't as intimidating as it had been before. They were walking down a street he didn't remember taking the previous night. Everything looked so incredibly different during the day. He stared up at the sky, wondering what time it was, but there was no sun for indication.

When he whipped back his head, Charlie was standing still facing his way. Instantly his eyes darted, looking for some danger that brought her to pause. "It's only a little further." she announced, like he needed encouragement to keep going. His chest filled with an annoying tight feeling as he nodded shortly. His reply seemed to pause her, as she lingered a moment too long for it to be natural. There was an expression on her face he could not identify. He swallowed back his actions as she turned away from him again.

He didn't know why, but each time he was even only a little bit blunt, she seemed to have this face, this unnerving expression that made him feel guilty immidiately. She had such a stern and sharp demeanour, but in those instances that seemed to wane.

"How often do you do this?" Stiles asked carefully. "go get food I mean." She peered over her shoulder, her expression seemed to have weakened a bit. "Depends if I have guests." She said softly. "It's been a while." She added in a muttered tone. Stiles quickened his pace, walking closer to her. "How long is a while?"

She turned around and shrugged her shoulders "about six months." Stiles instantly grabbed her arm and paused her. "Six months?! But people slip into comas all the time, you said they all come here." She squinted and licked her teeth. "I don't know if they all come here, but time passes differently in here, quicker. A second outside can mean days here." she said bitterly. He blinked twice and shifted his weight on his other leg, pursing his lips. "So, when you said you'd been here for seven years.." he tried.

"No." she said, sharply. "I meant seven years outside, Stiles." Her expression hardened as she finished her sentence. Stiles sucked in a breath as realisation hit him, if what she said was true, she had been here for more than a century. Charlie offered him an empty smile as she could read his thoughts from his expression.

He wanted to say something, anything, a clever or comforting line, but he couldn't. His throat had closed up, and the lump had taken every word he could think of. His breathing grew heavy and uneven, his lips pressed together to keep himself from falling apart, just thinking about it. To be trapped in his unforgiving empty place for so long. To be trapped, anywhere for so long was completely unthinkable and chilling to the bone.

She scoffed as his eyes shimmered with a glint of tears. Charlie swiftly punched him against his shoulder and grinned. "Don't I look good for my age?" She said, showing her teeth. He couldn't reply and so he only nodded, expressively. She smiled. "don't get sappy on me now. A moment ago you were pissed off with me." she said playfully, desperate to lighten the mood.

Stiles let out a breath "no no- I" he started but stopped as her face shifted from light to strained with sass. "You know, I'm starting to think you have something supernatural going on here.." he answered, squinting his eyes and pulling a face. "Nothing as extreme as that, you're just easy to read." she called with a chuckle. Stiles only made a noise in reply.

She took his hand and give it a firm yank. "You know your mood swings are going to give me a freaking whiplash." he scolded, to which she laughed.


	4. A regular

The convenience store was eerily empty, the lights shattered, with glass coating the floor, some of the packaging had been opened with their contents joining the glass, but for the most part it was relatively normal. Like a bunch of kids had broken in and smashed some stuff, and every moment now the manager was going to walk in and force his employees to work over time to get his store back into shape.

The isles were filled with everything you'd expect. Charlie entered first, her eyes shifting carefully as she led in her companion. "What do you feel like having?" She called after a second or two, feeling the area was quite secure. He pondered for a second, tracing his hand over the racks. "Hold on." he suddenly called. "How is any of this stuff still good? Aren't they way past their expiration date?" She snivelled a laugh and shrugged. "Days pass here, but things seem to remain still."

"So, I'm not going to get food poisoning?" He asked, raising a brow. "You might, I don't know how good a cook you are." she called sharply, mocking him. He raised a finger at her "I'll have you know I am a professional at ordering take out." "Ohhhh... colour me impressed." she answered mockingly.

"Don't have to, you already are." he answered her, folding his arms over his chest. Her lips curled, baring her teeth. "ohhh, okay. +20 points to whatever house you're in. That was a smooth one." She answered. He let out a noise, he wondered if there was a copy of Harry potter in her closet as well "Gryffindor." She let out a sneer, "Prancing lion indeed" and turned to a box of cereal, eyeing it with great interest. "I hate cereal. Who ever thought that wheat, grain and nuts could replace eggs and bacon was seriously disturbed." Stiles frowned at her sudden change of topic but quickly joined her. "Hey, I like cereal. With that I can have breakfast in one minute flat" he defended.

She whipped around, a dangerous expression on her face, simply struck with disgust. "You uncultured swine." she cursed, struggling for words. Stiles frowned. "You... okay there? You got a serial killer look in your eyes." He muttered, pointing at her face.

"I am very serious,.. about my breakfast." she said with a shudder inducing tone, while she pocketed packet of salty sticks. He pulled a face. "You eat apples for every meal of the day." He commented. She pursed her lips and smiled. "Fruit is good for you." she defended, and flexed her byceps.

"fruit to go with the basket..." Stiles muttered, eyeing a box of halloween cereal. She let out a noise and patted his shoulder. "That was a solid joke. I am impressed." His lips curled at her sarcasm and showed her the box as if she would get what it meant. It was brightly coloured with a happily depicted moon and wolves creeping at the bottom. He looked at her confused face for a moment, realising that he was not with his best friend. Scott would have found it funny, or would have at least been annoyed at him for it. Last time he had seen scott, he had..

When was the last time he had seen Scott?

Before he could even think about it, Charlie had taken hold of his hand. As she came into focuss, and he was about to retract from her grip, he noticed her dire eyes. They were stern and explicit. There was something amiss and he needed to shut his mouth. She lowered herself slightly, and with a gesture of her hand she instructed him to arm himself.

He clumsily took his gun from it's holster, making more sound than he ought to have, earning an annoyed expression of the girl. Her free finger moved to her lip and he nodded. She crept forwards, moving without making a sound, carefully avoiding the racks and the products stored there. Slowly she moved around the corner, keeping an arm in his view, telling him to pause. He failed his arms, gesturing to tell him what the hell was going on, but she could no longer see it.

He was breathing loudly, his skin warming in nerves and fear. His hand trembled at the possibility of danger. His lids were spread wide, not daring to blink. Then the hand was raised, she was standing up. "Stiles?" She said, sharply, as he followed her example. "it's okay." she said softly as he appeared next to her. It was not him she was reasuring, but another.

In front of her was a small girl, young and sweet. She wore a pink nightgrown, her blonde hair ruffled through and messy. Charlie reached for her hand. "Hey there stranger." She said softly though the girl flinched as she looked at Stiles. She took her hand and Charlie knelt in front of her. Stiles followed and lowered himself, not wanting to intimidate the girl who was obviously frightened.

"He's with me." Charlie reasured her, scoffing. As soon as she had finished a defiant look set in the girl's eyes. Stiles nodded, slightly confused. "I'm Lizzie. This many years old." she introduced herself, indicating herself as seven years old with her fingers. Charlie let out a gasp. "You're seven already?! I missed your birthday?!" She called, genuinely upset. The girl let out a chuckle and nodded. "Well we can't have that! My homegirl needs to be celebrated!" Charlie called and booped her nose with her finger.

Stiles squinted, unable to place the situation. He knew that this girl had to be in a coma, but how did they know eachother already then? "She's a regular here." Charlie explained, picking up the girl and seating her on her hip. As the girl was lifted she reached for his hair, and ran through it. "ohhhh.." she mouthed, looking up at Charlie. "It's soft."

Awkwardly he fixed his hair, creeped out by the little girl's hand. He let out a noise "that...felt so weird." he complained. The little blonde smiled as he shivered and collected himself. "What did you mean with regular?" he asked, while the girl plucked at the straps of Charlie's holster absently, like she had heard it too often. She turned and answered before Charlie had the chance. "Lukemia. They have to put me in medically induced comas when they cut me open. They keep coming up with ways to keep me alive. I come here alot." She said, clear and surprisingly eloquent and coy. Just a moment ago she was scared at the sight of him, and used her fingers to count, and now she blatendly told him that she was terminally ill.

Then she laughed "His face!" She called and giggled into Charlie's armpit, who was staring at her with scolding eyes. Stiles fumbled and pointed at her. "S-so you're not really sick?" Charlie shook her head at him. "She is, she's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"Sorry." Lizzie said emptily, a grand grin still set on her lips. "It's boring in hospitals, the only fun I get is when I fuck with people." she said. "wow... this place got even weirder with you in it.." stiles mouthed. It sounded strange, hearing such words from such a young mouth. Her voice was still high and pitchy, but her eyes were drooping, like an adult's. "You know what's weird? Your face!" She called, sticking out her tongue.

"...really? Look you might have an extensively creative vocabulary for your age group but you're not quite as skilled in using it." Stiles called, raising his brow. Charlie made a noise and shot him a look, making him painfully aware that his pride was misplaced, as he just put a primary school girl in her place. A primary school girl, with a terminal illness, no less.

The girl's lip started to tremble, looking at her guardian that held her. "C-c-charlie.." she whined, choking on her tears. Stiles reached for her "hey! no no no no" he muttered panicking. He didn't know what to touch or what to say to make her stop blubbering. She belted out a earshattering cry, big bubbles of sadness dripping down her chin. "oh my god." he muttered, spinning on his heel.

Charlie cleared her throat "Cut the crap Lizzie, the little girl act doesn't work with me." she called, stern and irritated. He whipped his head towards her, his mouth set in a permanent O. Lizzie let out a noise, clearing her noise and wiped the tears off her cheek in one movement. She looked at Stiles and back at Charlie, who wasn't amused by her actions.

She set her down, dropping her almost, and looked at her expectantly. The girl kicked the ground and pouted to the side. She muttered into her hair. Charlie just raised her brow. The girl let out a deep sigh and turned towards Stiles whom had since caught on how her personality functioned. "Fine." she said. "I'm sorry" clearer this time. Stiles nodded. She was still a kid in some ways, and he was glad to know that.

"good." Then, Charlie turned towards him, and gave him a jerk of her head and a raised brow. "What?" he called, confused. Again she jerked her head, this time towards the girl, and folded her arms. The little girl joined her, and looked at him expectantly.

Stiles's brow furrowed at the very notion, though after a few seconds passed, he nodded. "Yeah. Me too kid." He said offering his hand with a comical smile. Lizzie let out a chuckle and grabbed his hand, only being able to manage three fingers, though she compensated by gripping them as tightly as she could. "Ah-ah-ouch!" Stiles mouthed, shaking the cramp she had caused from his hand. "That's some monster grip you've got!" he commented, to which she merely smirked.

Charlie reached down and stroked the girl's cheek gently, turning her towards her. "So. Birthday girl." She started. The little blonde beamed and nodded, charging further into the convenience store, her tiny feet leaving suprisingly loud noises as she went.

Stiles studied the girl next to him, her eyes had changed as well as her voice. She had softened, and watched the girl go as if she was her own child. This soft look with her sharp eyes made her seem more human, approachable. Like she wouldn't break your face if you looked at her wrongly.

"She's quite something." Stiles remarked, watching her eyes snap back to him. "Yeah." she said, her lips curled only slightly. He might have been mistaken but he was sure there was a sense of sadness in them.

A moment later the girl reappeared, now clutching a big bag to her chest. "These." She called, lifting it above her head, to Charlie. "Curly fries." She called. "Ohhh I love those!" Stiles called, his eyes lighting up, poking the bag, looking for a brand. "It's been so long since I've had these." He called, to which the girl frowned. "Bet I can eat more than you." she said sharply, flipping her hair, which she probably picked up watching lots of day time T.V.

His lips curled into a smile of their own. "I don't know about that. I've been eating these badboys since I was an infant, which is about your age." He said, offering the little blonde a wink. She stuck out her tongue and made a noise. "I think I've eaten whole fields worth of potatoes, might have kept the business afloat all by myself." He continued, earning himself a chuckle from Charlie, who nodded with a smile.

"No wonder you're fat then!" Lizzie bit sharply, before turning the corner with a fast pace. "Hey!" He called after her. "I'm not- I" Stiles turned towards Charlie, making a face. "I'm not fat." He proclaimed, fighting the urge to poke or pinch his stomach to confirm. She licked her lips as shout carried from another isle. "Yes you are!"

She laughed at her younger companion and reached over to pinch his cheek, snapping him out of his expression. His knotted brow dissipating at her touch, to make way for surprise. "You're fine as a dime, Stiles." She offered, warming his face before she turned the corner to follow the girl.

He couldn't help but notice, that she, in that moment, was ridiculously pretty. It might have been the natural lighting, the fact that she paid him a compliment or perhaps his own projections, but the way her face lit up as she spoke those words was something else. A glint carried over her gray eyes, her chapped lips playfully stuck underneath her upper teeth, the way she twirled around the corner. He felt a jolt of electricity in his stomach that put a halt to his words.

"Ah..eh-" A purposeless finger hovering in her direction before it found its way through his hair as he focussed himself again. A noise escaped him like a laugh, a flutter stuck in his chest.

He found them moments later, clutching another bag, which Charlie held up as if it were a bowling trophy, in a wide stance, a hand resting on her hip, straitening her chest. "I say we have ourselves a match. I'll smoke both you bitches." She called, harshly, pursing her lips, squinting her eyes.

"Oh you're on!"


	5. Bonding over fries

The girls had lead him to a nearby restaurant, as they still had a functioning oven. The restaurant was practically untouched. There were some tables turned over, and he spotted a broken chair in the corner, but all in all it seemed rather normal. Over by the bar, he recognised the stools. They were the same as the ones in Charlie's home. She had shrugged at the mention of it, pulling a face. "They were comfortable." she had said, before kicking open the door to the kitchens.

Within minutes, the fries were in the oven and she had seated herself on a marble counter top, pulling up the little girl to sit besides her. Lizzie had made a point of trying to stare him down, to limited success. He felt awkward under her eyes.

Charlie whipped her barf coloured bag onto the counter, and pulled out a carton of Arizona. Green tea with honey, he couldn't say he was surprised. "Want some?" She offered as she pulled off the plastic cap and took a swig. Stiles jerked a brow, as he was about to mention the use of glasses for hygienic reasons, but her expression left no room for a remark like that. He nodded and took over the carton.

Lizzie's eyes darkened as his lips touched the plastic. His eyebrow raised itself, his eye finding its way to the corner to look at her. His lips parted further to say something to her, completely forgetting what he had been doing. He whipped his head forward as the drink had gone down the wrong tube and even up his nasal cavity. He spurted and coughed, dropping the carton onto the counter. He whipped his arm around to prevent him from sneezing and coughing tea, saliva and snot all over Charlie, who was dangerously close to him.

Lizzie bellowed a hearty laugh, which sounded equally ridiculous as her voice was childishly high still. Stiles' eyes had begun to water, as he peered through them he could only see a very unimpressed Charlie, one eyebrow raised, her head tilted to look at him. "Attractive." she muttered nodding as his attack came to a close. He wiped his nose on his sleeve "Don't get up or anything, I'm fine." he hackled, spewing a few more coughs and shallow breaths. His hand was firmly pressed against his side to stop the stinging pain there.

"You done?" She asked, completely unconcerned, claiming back her drink. Stiles inhaled sharply and nodded deeply. "And he's going to survive out here?" Lizzie called, clearly unimpressed by him. Charlie nodded absently, eyeing the oven and her fries within. "That's rich..." Lizzie commented as she slid down the counter top, her tiny feet hitting the floor with a tapping sound.

"I'm sorry." Stiles started, his voice still quite strained from earlier activities. "But you're seven. You're telling me that I don't have a chance out there, and you do?" he called, pointing at her with open hand. Charlie eyed him lazily, her brow knotted as if he'd just said something stupid.

"I trained her." She called, reaching to run her hand through the girl's thin hair. Lizzie beamed and reached up, already expecting Charlie to hand her something. She dug into one of her pockets and produced a knife, and handed to her. Stiles eyed it and identified it easily. "A butterfly knife?"

The girl eyed him with a certain irritation in her eyes. "Balisong, if you don't mind..." she corrected. "She flips em." Charlie explained, smiling proudly as the girl began to twirl the knife between her fingers, flicking it over and under from one hand to the other. Effortlessly it danced in her hands. "holy shit" Stiles mouthed as he watched her preform, picking up speed at his remark.

She had taken her eyes off her performance and was now staring directly at Stiles, taunting him with a slick grin. "Lizzie." Charlie said calmly, causing her to halt awkwardly, the blade still unfolded. "You've made your point." She pointed out as she too slipped from the counter. As she passed the blonde, she offered a gently touch on her shoulder before turning to the oven. "These look about done."

"But you're seven..." Stiles whispered, still quite stuck in awe. Lizzie rolled her eyes at him "That was amazing." he added slowly. "You think so?" Lizzie barked, her eyes dazzlingly green. Stiles nodded excessively, noting the her anticipation for his answer. "You kidding me? I'd be scared if I wasn't so impressed with you!"

The girl beamed with pride, trying her best not to smile at his remark. "Charlie taught you that?" he asked. "Yeah. I've been coming here a lot remember." she said sharply, cutting off the conversation."She's my little hitgirl." Charlie called, followed by a few metal noises. "Hitgirl wishes she was me..." Lizzie muttered, successfully quoting a line from the film.

"Does that make you big daddy?" Stiles called out to Charlie, who let out a scoff. "Does that make you kick-ass?" a rebuttal to which Lizzie made the most disgusted face he had ever seen. "I'm not kissing that!" He shouted, pointing at the teen who could not help but feel extremely offended. He was being dissed and dismissed by a seven year old. He had never had impressive 'game' but this was ridiculous.

Charlie reappeared, a hot tray in her hands filled with golden and orange deliciously coloured fries. She held them with a cloth that was most definitely left underneath a stove for several thousand years. It was raggy it was discoloured and definitely disgusting as hell. Stiles eyed it with distaste, pulling a face at the sight of it.

"I've got fries!" Charlie called as she slammed a tray onto the counter top in a similar fashion than she did her weapons the previous day. She eyed the both of them as there was no response, and pointed at the food she had created. Stiles slumped and reached over the counter, burning his fingers as he did. He pulled a nasty face as he retrieved a handful anyway. "determination." Charlie muttered impressed with him.

Lizzie snapped, rolling back into the previous subject as stiles unattractively blew on the fries and shoved them into his mouth, only to notice then that they were still too hot for consumption. "Honestly! Would you kiss that?" She called, pointing at the display of farm life, determined to make a point. Stiles swallowed the hot mess in his mouth audibly and shot her a look.

"Definitely." Charlie said, plain as anything. Picking herself a fry and twirling it in her hand. Lizzie snapped back at her, mouth ajar, eyes spread wide. Stiles mimicked her expression, not believing what he had just heard. "Why?!" Lizzie almost squeaked, her voice shifting in tone. Charlie turned towards her, with an almost bored expression. She flicked her eyebrow at his funny expression as she pointed with her fry.

"The cute moles, pretty doe eyes, the hair, the lush lips, the awkward disposition, the voice, the healthy dose of sarcasm. I could go on if you like, what's not to like?" She said sternly, a confused expression on her face as she pointed out each feature with her now half eaten fry. Lizzie was struck with silence, not knowing what to say. She turned towards Stiles who seemed just as mute as her, he shrugged unknowing, his eyes wide, his lips set in an angle not appropriate to anything in the emotion spectrum.

Charlie whipped her head around, munching one fry at a time, staring at the pair. "...what is it now?" She mouthed, her brow set in irritation. "He's handsome. What do you want?" She threw at the little girl whose expression seemed to sour. "Your taste in men is appalling..." Lizzie breathed, frighting the urge to stab the boy right then.

Stiles' chest grew tight again, a sensation he was slowly getting used to. She was so open and expressive, it was shocking to him. She found it so easy to say what was on her mind, and he was fascinated by her. It was a strangely relieving for him to hear that she found him attractive. He'd be lying if he said that he hadn't considered her in a romantic or sexual setting, but simply hearing that she considered him was lifting.

She plucked at her hair, shoving more fries into her mouth in a beastly manner. She seemed unreal, even as she sat there gobbling down greasy foods, her fingers and chin covered in crumbs and shimmered with grease, there was something strangely graceful. Her hand dropped to the counter, as it clutched three golden curls. He only noticed then that it was still bound, with a different cloth than it had been the day before. "You guys going to eat- or what?"

He blinked quickly, as she once again caught him staring. He smiled and reached over. "You know, if we really are what we eat, then I'd definitely be a curly fry." he said, lighting the mood instantly. Charlie reached down and lifted Lizzie onto the counter once again. Half a second later she froze, her lips pulling at her. She folded herself over and bellowed a most hearty laugh, choking on her own voice.

A wheezing noise escaped her, earning her worried expression from both her companions. "You okay?" Stiles asked, pulling a face at her dying seal noises. She let out more noises, trying to conveigh whatever was going on but her laughter only thickened as she tried. "c-c-c" She tried, her smile spread so wide it cut her face in half. "a comatose curly fry." She called, folding over again in laughter.

Stiles flicked his brow at her, pulling a face. He chuckled himself, not at the extremely bad joke, but simply that it had been something as silly as that that had drawn such a reaction from her. Lizzie shook her head in silence, clearly used to these kinds of outburst.

Charlie's jaw pulled at her, strained with her earlier laughter. Her eyes had watered, a pair of tears had found their way to her chin, much to her disdain. She wiped her face with her sleeve, snorting and whipping back her hair. She shot Stiles an apologetic look before taking to her carton of tea.

He smiled down at the counter. They ate fries in silence, dispite their previous quite jolly mood.

Stiles paused as he had just shoved a handful into his mouth. His tongue raked over the pulp, tasting the salt and spices. He waved his arm to grab attention as she swallowed down the mass. "I can taste these!" He called suddenly.

The raven haired girl smashed her hand onto the counter, using it to steady herself closer to him. "Really?" Her hands reached for his face, finding a place at each cheek, pulling him closer so she could look in his eyes. "how clear is the taste?" She questioned, her voice stern and unwavering. She squinted at him, searching. Stiles felt awkward under her touch but found himself pushed past that. "It's like it's normal. They taste they way they always do!" Gesturing with his hands, his head restrained from moving.

She was inches away from him, he could practically count her freckles. Her eyes were darting over his face. "This is good." She breathed before releasing him. "very good."

She was rubbing her hands together to Stiles' irritation. "That's nice...but what does it mean?" he called, more desperately than he had wanted. Lizzie frowned at him, shaking her head. "You haven't taught him at all, have you?" she said, scolding. "it means that you've got a connection with these."

Charlie nodded deeply, turning back towards him. "Thing we have connections to, memories. They are part of who we are. They make us human." She explained poorly. "So..." stiles started. "So does this mean I can wake up?" he questioned, not even believing what he suggested, a pained expression on his face. He was met with only disappointed looks. "No, but it means your not as far gone as I had thought." Charlie replied.

"He's not very clever, is he." Lizzie remarked, mimicking the sharp tone usually found in Charlie's voice. Stiles' head snapped at her remark "What does that even mean?" he called, frustration setting in his voice. Lizzie frowned "You. no. smart." she said slowly, pointing at her lips. He only shot her an annoyed look, fighting the urge to scream at the top of his lungs. He huffed, trying to contain himself.

"So,.. what do I do?" Stiles murmured, scratching his head. "You train with me." Charlie answered, her hands glued to her hips.


	6. First training

She had dragged him back outside, gently by the hand, but forceful nonetheless. In her other hand rested her the girl's palm. She had handed her shotgun to Lizzie, who seemed more than pleased to wield it, practised even.

Charlie's eyes were set to the distance, though her grip was loose, her disposition was tense, excited almost. There was a speed to her walk, a bounce in her step. She might have always walked that way, but there was a sway in her hips as her boots dug into the pavement. Stiles observed her, having accepted his fate of ignorance for the time being.

"You play sports?" she suddenly asked, not taking her eyes off the road ahead. Stiles nodded "Lacrosse. Badly, but I'm first line." he answered, joining her empty stare at the horizon. "Sounds like a French stomach bacteria" She murmured. "What is it?"

Stiles snorted at that. People all had the same response when hearing of it, a confused look and a loud 'huh?' usually followed. It wasn't a popular sport sure, and it didn't get a lot of media coverage, so he couldn't blame people for being unaware. He didn't know any different. Beacon hills was average at best in most sport departments, Lacrosse was the only thing they excelled at. He reckoned they worked down a list, and lacrosse was way at the bottom. A default option for the extremely untalented. They chose it as theirs and followed with genetically categorising and breeding for the ultimate player.

"It's basically soccer slash rugby with nets on sticks." Stiles explained, pulling a face and knotting his brow at his own eloquence. Charlie nodded blindly. "Do you like it?" she questioned.

"Honestly?" He asked before continuing without getting a reply. "I love it, I just don't get to play many matches. There's always something going on. Werewolves, sometimes a whole pack of them, and then werewolf hunters, a giant lizard, evil voodoo witch things, puts a damper on most games." Stiles plainly stated, expecting her to laugh or disregard his remark as a folly.

"There was a boy here who was a werewolf. Round your age. Sweet kid really. You'd have liked Isaac." Charlie said clearly. Stiles paused in his step and pulled at her arm. "You've met Isaac? He was here?" He called, more loud than he had wanted. "Tall guy, broody, curls, keeps mentioning freezers?" he elaborated, at each part Charlie nodded. "Sounds about right yeah, he was here a few years ago. Friend of yours?"

Stiles scoffed, a smile forming on his lips. "Something like that." He muttered, his gaze shooting rapidly, not knowing where to rest. There was a spark in his chest, something warm, he felt hopeful. He turned towards Charlie, who was eyeing him with a decent amount of confusion. He fought the urge to squeeze her in a bear hug and pressed on for more information. "But he never mentioned this place, or, or you? Did you wake him?" He asked. Her expression seemed to soften, and with a soft tug of his hand they were walking again.

Lizzie chose to answer for her instead "People don't always remember. When you wake up it feels like you've just had a dream, it slips away over time." She said, matter of factly. Stiles shook his head, as if he was just hit with a sudden burst of water. "but- but you remember ?" he tried, gesturing.

"She comes here often, remember?" Charlie called with a quelling look on her face, whipping back her head. "But it's for the best." She explained. "Things that happen here, it's best not to remember."

"Shit..." Stiles muttered under breath, before slapping his hands together, tearing it from her grip. "I'll remember you." he exclaimed. She raised her brow. "Don't worry. You won't feel guilty any more after you've woken up" she said sternly. Stiles smiled at her widely, not because he felt like doing so, but because it was needed to conveigh his message.

"I remember everything, it's a curse really. Only have to read it or hear it once or twice and I can recall it at my moment of choosing. For example did you know that ketchup was sold as medicine in 1830? Odd really, it wasn't a specific medicine or anything, just a general one. Had a headache? Ketchup. Had a fungus infection? Ketchup. They even thought it might help fight cancer." he tried, relieved as he found her face softening with every new word.

"It's especially bad because I also remember every stupid thing I've done ever, and it comes back to me when I don't want it to. A few years ago, I was caught with an impressive amount of chains in my locker. Which all fell out when I tried to show, Scott, who is a werewolf too by the way, and it was absolutely mortifying, seeing as the whole team was there and of course they all drew their own conclusions. Which you are probably doing now too, and which I hope that Lizzie surely isn't. It sometimes comes by and stings me, like a mosquito bite. Probably a female one though, since they are the only ones that bite. Did you know that a mosquito is the deadliest animal on the planet? There are more deaths surrounding mosquitoes than any other animal. Anyway, it was embarrassing, and I can't seem to lose the memory."

Charlie chuckled at him, a playful smile set on her lips as she looked at him, shaking her head sideways. Even the little girl was amused with him, and watched him with fascination through out his tale. There was humour and strength in his voice, something that carried through to Charlie. In that moment, she would have believed anything he told her, and she did.

"I won't forget you." Stiles concluded. She took his gentle words without question though she wanted to shout at him for suggesting it and making promises she knew he would not be able to keep. "Okay." she mouthed as he reached for her hand once again. He squeezed it for a moment before they carried on again.

She guided them back her office building, only to enter the building adjoined to it, a gymnasium. She had thrown open the door and flicked on the lights inside. It was no surprise that it too lit up with a magnificent brightness. Stiles wondered how she had not gone blind by now. As they flickered, they revealed a large room with brick walls and concrete floors. In some ways it reminded him of Derek's loft, there was a huge window at the other end, and the excessive amount of grey was surely an indication of his interior decorating style. All it needed was a stuffy gray-ish couch and a few lights shot down and it would have been a spitting image.

Charlie entered first, and threw her bag on a table next to the door. She breathed in deeply, smiled quickly and took to a chest under the table. She flicked the lid as Lizzie and Stiles joined her inside. "Stiles come here for a sec." she muttered, reaching blindly behind her for his hand.

As soon as he touched upon her skin, she gripped his hand and pulled him to his knees beside her. He let out a grunt of pain as he crashed onto his caps. She twisted it and spread his fingers. "keep it like this." she ordered. Stiles pulled a face at her tone, there really was no need for it.

She pulled a bandage and started binding his hand. Stiles raised a brow until he recognised them. They were hand wraps, usually worn by people in combat sports, like boxers. She tied it easily, whipping the cloth over his wrist and back to his hand. She had done it often, this much was certain, she repositioned and tugged at the fabric, asking him to move his fingers now and again. "Other hand." She ordered, even though he had already offered it. She wrapped it with a different colour cloth and continued to do her own hands.

The bindings felt weird to say the least, they were tight with a weird texture. She had bound herself in a matter of seconds, pulled out a notepad and had closed her chest again with a thud. She tossed it over to the little girl, the pages playfully fluttering in the air for a brief moment before Lizzie caught the book effortlessly.

She nodded, apparently knowing what it meant and smiled. Stiles shuffled, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "you're going to teach me how to box?" he questioned. In one swift movement Charlie came to a standing and pushed him towards the centre of the room. "No, I'm going to teach you how to fight."

She smacked her elbow, telling him to put up his guard. "Come on. Hit me." She called as she too threw up her hands, loose fists hovering in front of her. Stiles shook his head. "I'm not... I'm not going to hit you." he called before receiving a quick slap to the side of the head. He let out a noise and covered the spot, shooting daggers at Charlie. "Hit me." She called sternly, squinting.

Stiles dropped his hands, biting his lip in annoyance. "Isn't there another way to train?" He tried, to which she nodded. "There's a version of this where we dip our hands in glue and coat them in broken glass?" she explained, mischief glinting in her eyes. Stiles nodded, pulling a face and putting up his hands. "You know what? I'm good." He muttered earning himself a smile.

She tapped his chest quickly. "Guard up, and hit me." She called again, spreading her stance, telling him to do the same. He watched his feet and mimicked her. His face was scrunched up, his lip pulling, his cheekbones pulled up to his eyebrows. "Hit me!" she called loudly, and his fist moved instantly. He jabbed her shoulder, with little strength. She flicked her brow at him. "Loose fists, thumb on the outside." she instructed.

He loosened his hands and steadied himself. Nodding at her to go on. She flicked her brow, edging him to take give another punch. He stepped forward and punched at her with his right fist, she deflected it with a flick of her wrist. Stiles threw another punch, and a couple more after that, but all of them were deflected with a simple movement.

Stiles huffed irritated, stepped in, putting more strength behind him, she stepped to the side of him and with a gentle push sent him to the ground. "You fuckin- kidding me" he cursed under his breath as he scurried back to his feet. She jerked her arm, taunting him. He quickly sent another fist her way, and another. His chest was heating up, and he had yet to lay a hand on her.

Lizzie let out a chuckle, watching them. "Stop going easy on him!" she called between giggles. His eyes flickered back to the girl before him, who seemed to have barely moved from her spot. With a jerk of her head, she flipped a lock of her hair back in its place. She moved between his punches, slapping his hands away before they even got close to her.

"Time's up!" she called, a grin spreading on her lips, within a blink, and the flash of a leg, Stiles found himself pressed against the ground, weighed down by her knee, his breath forced out of him. She pushed her knee into his chest for a fragment of a second before getting back on her feet, offering him a nod of her head. "You're enjoying this aren't you...?" he breathed, scrabbling back to his feet. Hunched over he opened his eyes only to see a hand reach for the side of his head. With a loud thud he fell to the ground again, his body screaming at the impact. "O-okay.." he muttered, deeply, shaking his head. "You are definitely enjoying this..."

He slumped onto his back and lay there like a rag doll. Lizzie's laughter echoed through the room, breaking only to mock him. "Just stop, he's only going to get himself into more danger, if you train him." she called, sharply. Stiles let out a noise, resembling a chortle. "I laugh in the face of danger!" He said strained, catching Charlie's gaze. "Then I usually go and hide." he offered, relishing as he watched her lips curl.

She nodded, grabbed hold of his shirt and lowered himself on top of him. "o-ohhhkay" he muttered under breath, his eyes wide. His chest complained at the weight, though his skin rejoiced in the sensation of her legs around him. "Now, if you get up, I'm only going to knock you back down again." She started. "You have to know what you're going to do, before you get up."

Stiles coughed as he tried to speak, and she pressed down on him. "You won't beat me, I'm hundreds of years old, each of which are filled with days of fighting and training. So, what do you do?" She added, watching his expression change.

His eyes darted over her, his fingers twitching. She could practically see his brain run over all the different possibilities, the different situations. He strained under her legs, trying to turn or lift himself. He scanned the area for solutions, hissing at each disappointment, growing more agitated.

"You're not making a lot of progress here." Lizzie called, pleased and chipper. A few soft thuds echoed towards them, she was jumping up and down and applauding the situation. "yes I'm aware of that thank you." Stiles threw, his expression strained with effort.

He strained underneath her before finally whipping back his head against the ground with a thud. "Please do share your knowledge, how do you beat that which is by freaking definition unbeatable?" Stiles complained. The girl smiled down at him and shifted, lifting herself. With a creak of her knee she came to a stand. "You don't."

Stiles shot a gaze to the little blonde who seemed to be nodding excessively. "What?" Stiles mouthed confused. "You can't beat that which is unbeatable. Of course not. And that's exactly what you want." She carried on, offering him a hand, which he gladly took. He noticed then that she had not even broken a sweat, while his brow and chest were coated. He wanted to object, but decided against it and waited until she explained herself.

"If the game doesn't agree with you, you change it. Change the conditions, change the rules, change the platform until you have the advantage. The upper hand. Until you are the one that is unbeatable." She called, spreading her arms as if she was cheered on by a massive crowd and she had just won herself a trophy. "Okay...,change the game, how?" Stiles asked, steadying himself again.

"You've already started, by believing it is possible." Charlie called as she brushed some imaginary dust off her shirt. Stiles shot her a look. "That's conveniently Cryptic.." he breathed, stretching his muscles to sooth some of the pain.

Charlie nodded briefly, and with a whip of her head signalled Lizzie. "Main use of right hand, over stretching. Uncontrolled breathing." She answered, waving her notepad. He eyed his hands, and the different colour bandage covering them, and nodded. "Alright." Charlie called and raised her hands. "Again."

He sucked in a breath and mimicked her guard. This time, his hits were short, and more difficult to block, to her amusement. Her lips broadened into a smile as his hands got closer to their mark with every attempt. She let out a chuckle, seeing his face, contorted with effort.

His attacks were clumsy at best, but with each one he became more accurate. She looked amused, and not strained at all. The look in her eyes shifted as she stopped his blow before it landed. Her hand enveloped his fist, gently covering it. He flicked his brow and stood up straiter, waiting for her to explain herself.

Her head whipped round towards Lizzie, whom only nodded. Her voice bellowed through out the room. "Right!" she called and lowered her hand, releasing his. Stiles' heart was pumping wildly, sweat dripping from all over his body. They had only been at it for mere minutes, ten at best, but his body felt strained as if he had fought for hours.

He eyed Charlie as she stepped away from him, her expression had not changed, and surely she had noticed his demeanour. Seeing as she notice everything. Was it normal for his body to react like this? He grimaced as she reappeared with two swords. "More. That's fine.." he breathed, telling his lungs to calm the hell down.

She raised one of them and threw it towards him. His eyes spread wide at the action and stepped aside and shielded his torso and face. "Holy god!" He cursed as it's metal clattered on the ground. She stood still, raising her brow at him, disappointed he didn't catch it. He let out a heavy breath, growing more and more frustrated with his teacher. He scooped up the sword. His mind trailed back to Kira, she was quite skilled with a blade. She had this way of moving, almost dancing with her weapon, she learned how to use her sword it in record time. He hoped it could be done without foxpowers too.

"Guard up!" Charlie cried, her blade shimmering in a sliver of light. He mimicked her pose, slowly and steadily. When he looked up again she was too close for comfort. She had moved towards him, the blade inches from his head. He stepped back, throwing up his sword, making it clang against hers. Her expression was composed, which added to the fear manifesting in his chest as she swung around again.

"Oh god. Stop!" He called as he barely dodged it, falling onto a single knee and sliding away from her. Lizzie cackled loudly. Charlie tilted her head to the side slightly before stepping towards him again, a sword swinging towards him. He threw up his own and blocked it, the pressure behind it almost forcing him into the ground. A throaty grunt escaped him, hissing against his lips as he rolled out from underneath her.

Adrenaline found its way into his veins as a roaring battle-cry was released. She was faster now, came at him alot faster. Her face still showed no expression, nothing whatsoever. Was she trying to kill him? No, she was a practised swordsman, she had been training for years and years, if she wanted him dead he would have been so at the first strike, probably at the first moment she laid eyes on him.

Completely out of left field came another hit, she planted the hilt into his chest and sent him aback, she could have pierced him with the blade but she chose to not to. She was giving him time. He let out an angry breath and steadied himself. He'd given up on trying to reason with her.

She came towards him again, a stride in her step. With a swing of her hip the sword came towards him. He breathed through his nose, calming himself and put up his guard. He bent his arm and held the sword like he had seen Kira and Charlie do. He moved it to intercept her swing once, stepped back and turned it to swing himself. She deflected it, her eyes still stern, and her lips thin. He could hear the little blonde gasp in the distance but he forced himself to disregard it and keep to the task at hand. He swung once more, clattering ensuing and echoing in his head. He swore he could hear the blades connect before they actually did.

Sweat found it's way into his eyes, but he didn't even notice it. He moved against her, copying and countering her as best he could. The sword felt wrong in his hand, the only time he had held a sword, was when it was burrowed into Scott's chest and he was twisting it in his guts. He wasn't in controll of his body, but he could still sense everything, even the disgusting pleasure the fox derived from his suffering.

Cool metal met with deafening sounds, clumsy blows crying against practised ones. His arms were already way past their limit with hurt. He cursed himself, nausia hitting his throat as he for a single moment considered that having the nogitsune's strength back in his body would offer him some release. However much he hated and disposed everything it embodied, that darkened fox brought him power. As the creature tricked its torture, he was revolted, but the feeling that lingered in his limbs was undistinguishable. He had felt like he could do anything. Be anything.

Now he was beneath someone's blade with no skill or strength. He wasn't a fighter, he wasn't a warrior or a hero. He was the one that figured it out, the one with the plan. Or at least that's who he used to be. His thoughts fanned the anger boiling in his heart.

He let out a noise, blinking and focussing back to as a weight pressed down on him with dead eyes. Charlie had moved against him, holding his sword wielding hand by the wrist, her blade hovering beside his neck. "Check." She suddenly said, breaking the silence.

He huffed "Like you couldn't have done that earlier." he said, breathy and irritated. Her expression changed slightly, squinting her eyes. "Check." she repeated sharply. She furrowed her brow, expecting him to make a move, while on all accounts a single muscle out of place would surely get him his head severed from the rest of his body.

His eyes darted over her, his muscles strained to keep himself upright in an unnatural possition. He had absolutely no room to move. The little blonde had moved into his sight, looking at him with keen eyes, almost waiting for him to screw up and get cut. He swallowed back a comment and focussed on the girl before him. Who seemed frozen in her pose, waiting for him.

"You realise that I can't move." he complained, shooting her a look. She only flicked her brow once. "Seriously, I've got nothing here. You expect me to fight myself out of your grip, while you are like this monsterous warrior princess?" He continued, waving his free hand to make his point. "I'm glad you think that highly of me, but my actual abilities might fall short of your expectations."

She blinked once before withdrawing the blade from his throat, allowing him a breath. She took a few steps back. "Guess you're not ready. I'll slow down." she called sharply.

"Why?" Stiles replied, holding his sword by her shoulder. She whipped around, a surprised expression set on her. He flicked his brow, taunting her, smiling as he wiped the sweat off his brow. "You little shit..." she breathed, a smile slowly forming. "What?" He replied, shrugging.

"What?" Lizzie rang, clearly not following their interaction. "He beat me." Charlie called, chipper and grinning. The little blonde's face fell, even more confused. "No,... no he forfitted."

"Did he?" Charlie rebounded, pointing at the boy. "I was the one that moved, that withdrew. He only spoke to me. He couldn't move without getting killed, and so he made me do the moving. Inspired, truly." she praised, to which he nodded shortly, fighting the urge to take a bow.

"But he was complaining!" Lizzie called in a childlike manner, a voice high, pitched and usually accompanied by stomping little feet. "You should go into acting." Charlie called, pointing her sword towards Stiles. Stiles let out a huff and leaned on his knees "it would be a less intense career than playing human puchbag." he commented. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to be all bruise in the morning."

Charlie threw back her head, smiling at the ceiling like that was the funniest thing she had ever heard. There was a sinister glare in her eyes as she lowered her head, her index finger brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. He shook his head, running his hand through his hair roughly and nodding. No matter what he might say, no matter how he might object, he had no say in the matter, and he knew it. There'd be more sweating.

The corners of his lips reached his chin, his nose scrunched up and he nodded. "Bring it." he said boldly. The little blonde shot him a dirty look before collecting his sword from him. "You are spaztic" she commented. "Your swordsmanship." she elaborated shortly. It was only then that Stiles noticed that her way of speaking was very peculiar. She spoke with an accent, a light one at that, but it was there nonetheless.

He pointed at her as she walked up to the raven haired warrior. "She's not from around here, is she? California I mean." he muttered as halfway through his sentence she turned around with an expression even more vile than before. "No, I'm German." She said snidely.

"This place is quite international" Charlie explained raising her arms and popping her shoulder with a nasty sound, followed by a moan. "Doesn't always help with the whole saving thing, I bet. Language barriers and all that." He said. She nodded deeply "English is a well practised language overall though. We do quite well in Europe." She sing-songed as she dropped down on all fours and arched her back, stretching herself.

"Right. Yeah." he called, stepping closer to her, not at all eager to join her in her stretching, but doing so without complaint. "Your English is exceptional, especially for your age." Stiles commented. She only rolled her eyes in response. He bit his lip as he caught Charlie's eyes and realised what he had just said. She had been in this place, where time meant absolutely nothing. That little girl could easily be older than he was. As he arched his back, and flexed his muscles and to his surprise it actually felt more relieving than hurtful. Lizzie was still watching them, nursing something unpleasant as she did.

"You aight?" she asked, blindly. He breathed a yes to which she smirked and got back on her feet and sunk through her knees, lengthening her left leg quickly and proceding to her right. "she waved at Lizzie who only let out a heavy sigh in reply and made her way to the oposing wall where a door lead to a storage room.

Soon music echoed through out the gym. Stiles' head shot up, finding speakers embedded in the walls. "that's … not a standard feature." He commented. Charlie shrugged. "I have a lot of time on my hands, this place is my baby, renovated it completely to my needs. The plumbing was a nightmare." She commented, clearly proud of her achievements.

He shook his head, smiling. "You're something else." He called, mainly to himself. She snorted and sunk down to the ground, readying herself. "Try and keep up." she said, sharply. Her feet left a thundering sound behind as she launched towards the wall, her arms snugly pressed against her chest. Before she crashed into the wall she stretched out her right leg and turned on her heel, and headed towards him again. Her feet followed eachother in a pace and boom that carried over the music, adding to the intensety of the beat.

It was one of those songs that you'd memorise even after only hearing it once. A generic upbeat song that compelled you to move. He wondered if she had chosen it for that purpose. Charlie had darted from the other wall and was racing back to the first. He had had a similar excersize in P.E, where they'd have to run wall to wall before a beep in rang, and if you fell behind, you failed. It wasn't one of his favourites, since he could never get passed level six, and boys needed at least 7 to pass.

He breathed an "oh my.. no come on,...wait." as she tapped him, pushing him to join her. He let out a grunted an oh my god as his feet sprung into action, his thighs and sides already complaining at the first few steps. He imagined and expected her to slow down, to run beside him and ease him into the rythm, but she didn't. She bashed on, her boots pounding into the ground to the beat of the music.

He connected with the wall, his hand pushing him in the oposite direction before carrying on again, she was already headed towards him. He lowered his head as he jogged to the next wall. "I'm seriously starting to wonder if you're human.." he breathed, his lungs complaining. She passed him again, shooting mocking looks, furrowing her brow.

He wasn't sure if his voice had carried over the deafening song, but he knew it didn't matter. She wasn't going to let up, so far everything she demanded of him had been to some purpose, and if the next lesson he had to learn involved tapping a bunch of walls and running himself into traction, that was he was going to do.

His feet were heavy and all kinds of muscles were crying. She passed by him, her hand gently tracing his arm as she did. He turned to look at her, but as he turned, she moved down. He stopped in his track and moved to the left before she had the chance to trip him. Her foot passed underneath him as she twirled. "Holy-!" She smiled as he dodged her. "Lizzie." She called for the little blonde who already seemed ready.

"What the hell was that?" Stiles complained, gesturing towards her as his legs tingled. She murmured something under breath and straitened herself. "Come on." She called, and carried on her run as if nothing had happened. He jerked his head, wasn't she even going to explain herself? She had just tried to trip him!

Though tired, haggard and getting more irritated, he started back up again. He was growing accustomed to not being in the loop of her deranged mind and simply accepted that it was probably towards something important.

He held his side as he ran, but as he touched the wall and turned his eyes drew to the side, where Lizzie was pulling back her arm. Her eyes glinted as she released and sent a knife his way. He let out a desperate noise as he moved away from it. It clashed against the wall behind him, sparking against the bricks. "What the hell!" he shouted, drawing his hands from his face.

The little blonde only jerked her brow and smiled. She reached for another as Charlie came towards him. "Keep running, don't get hit." She explained oh so eloquently as she tapped the wall and turned on her heel. At the mere mention of it his chest heatened, he was already sweating and boiling with the effort he had gone through before, but that was nothing compared to the anger he felt.

"No!" He cried, his brow knotted together, an almost hurt expression on his face.

She stopped in her tracks, after dodging a knife smoothly. He tilted her head, as if she were a puppy about to be scolded. "You never tell me what's going on, which I understand partly, and which is fine. No actually it isn't fine. It's torture. I'm in a world I know nothing about, I have to acquire a certain skill set I know nothing about in order to not die in a horrible manner, which I accept. But the least you could do is tell me why and how." He called, his voice calm but loud, his hand still lingering in the air.

Charlie stared at him blindly, and waved her arm to stop Lizzie from throwing another knife. A muscle near her left eye twitched as he looked at him. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable in the silence, rewinding what he had said to make sure he hadn't offended her somehow, and that what he had said made actual sense, which he started to doubt. "You've got spunk." She finally said, pulling her mouth to the side. "We're training your reflexes." she elaborated, pointing at the knife beside him.

"Gotta be quick when you're out there." Lizzie called, as she drew back her arm and send another sliver of metal his way. He jerked his head out of the way, but it still cut the edge of his cheekbone as he did. "And you need some work."

He traced his finger of the blade, a small of amount of sticking to his skin. "Holy shit..." he breathed as his cheek heated up. His eyes darted towards Charlie, who seemed to waiting for him. She shot him a smile, and just like that they ran. They ran and dodged knives. His heart embraced the new rhythm as if it was already getting used to it.


	7. No rest of the wicked

"That's enough." Charlie called after another metal clatter hit the walls. Stiles let out a huff, almost surprised at her. They had been at it for at least an hour, and he had gotten good at it. Sure he had cuts all over his body, but he hadn't been grazed since the halfway mark. Charlie had not been hit by any of him, to his annoyance.

Lizzie stared at them and nodded. "Good, so I can turn off that horrid racket?" she complained like a mother would to her children. Charlie laughed and slumped from her battle stance, flicking her hand towards to the closet.

"So, how did I do?" Stiles breathed, plucking at his sweaty clothes, unveiling his cuts. A line of blood was trickeling down his leg. She nodded deeply, acknowledging him. He smiled at her silence, though slightly disappointed at lack of praise. They locked eyes, and he noticed then how bright they were. She seemed happy, unlike before. She smiled at him shortly, saying nothing at all.

Lizzie scraped her throat. "Please desist." He jerked his head towards her, ready to shake his head and tell her that whatever she was thinking was the exactly opposite of what was actually going on. "Come on, champions." Charlie said calmly.

She opened a door, which seemed to lead to a cafeteria of some sort. She motioned for them to sit down and clicked open yet another door which led to a freezer.

"...Wouldn't it have been easier to...make your kitchen here?" Stiles said, scratching the wooden surface of counter. Lizzie had taken a seat on top of it, as she had done in the restaurant. Maybe she liked being tall. "I like a challenge." She called, followed by the clanging of bottles. "Besides, my home is easier to defend. Too many entrances here."

Stiles pressed his lips together. "Of course, that's the first thing to pay attention to when browsing for a new home. Is it a fortifiable position and is there enough surrounding land to dig out a mote?" Lizzie shot him a look. "Water does nothing against wraiths." She hissed. He narrowed his eyes at that word. "Shadows."

Charlie reappeared, clutching two yellow bottles in her left hand, and a six-pack of juice packets in the other. "You guys thirsty?" She called and settled them on the counter. Lizzie fiddled with the plastic and freed one of them. "Peach!" She exclaimed, apparently pleased with the selected flavour.

Stiles eyed the bottle handed to him with some confusion. She instantly popped the cap of her own and started to down the liquid. Her eye fell on him for a moment a lowered on her bottle. "Desperados. It's beer with some tequila." She explained, to which he nodded and mouthed a yeah.

He fingered the cap and looked for a bottle opener. "ehm..do you have-" Charlie took the bottle from him and opened it with her teeth, sending the cap flying. Stiles watched her with amazement. "Speeding your way to veneers?" He commented, flicking his brow. She handed him the bottle, but before she released it, she narrowed her eyes. "...How old are you again?"

He swallowed and pulled a face, contemplating his options here. "I'm uhm... not...exactly twenty-one yet." he said, squinting his eyes and drawing up his shoulders, as if she was going to slap him.

At that moment she pulled the most monstrously enraged face possible.

She breathed heavily through her teeth, much like a dog. "Oh yeah, okay. That's fine. I love juice." Stiles tried, gesturing with his hands and reaching for the plastic wrapper only to be smacked by the tiny blonde who was aggressively sucking on her straw. Charlie chuckled. "I'm only kidding. Calm down" she called, her beastial expression turning into a smirk. She handed him the beer. "Live a little, kid." She clinked her bottle with his and took another swig.

She smiled briefly and eyed the bottle, muttering something "I can drink without touching the lip of the bottle. And they said I had no talent."

Stiles paused for a moment, watching her before taking a sip himself. "You have seriously impressive mood swings." he muttered against the neck of the bottle.

"It's a stupid law anyway. I mean it varies in every country. You guys get to drive at sixteen! I mean, what the actual hell, but then you can't drink until you're twenty-one. While in the Netherlands people can drink from eighteen on, while they go up for their drivers license. I mean you're potentially killing more people by car than by bottle." She ranted. "That's science!" she exclaimed pointing at Stiles, squinting and taking another swig.

"science.." Stiles breathed, mocking her with a smile, wondering why it bothered her so.

"Have you got ADD?" she asked suddenly changing the topic, completely disregarding his statement and catching him off guard.

Stiles raised his brow at her, and pursed his lips. "Uh...among other things,... why are you-" Charlie nodded deeply. "It would explain your reflexes. You're fast." Charlie said, to which the little blonde sighed. "not fast enough, look at the bloody mess he's turned himself into." She complained, pointing at the now blood stained camouflage.

He cringed looking down at it, not really looking forward to lifting the fabric and looking at the carnage. Though he felt a sense of achievement looking at it. Lizzie had thrown a substantial amount knives at him, and only a few had grazed him, none of them had actually hit him. He eyed Charlie who seemed fixated at the stain in his trousers. What would she actually have done if he had been hit, if he had been impaled in the chest and died. She had mentioned that if he were to die in this place, that he would die out there as well, so why was she risking his life to train his reflexes? Couldn't she just have him grab a pebble out of her palm or something?

"Does it hurt?" Charlie asked, disregarding Lizzie, who seemed to get more angry by the minute. Stiles shrug his shoulders, feeling an urge to seem stronger than he was. To fill the boots she had set down for him. She nodded and turned to her bottle, downing the rest of the liquid. Lizzie frowned "Are you serious? This boy is a walking disaster, have you taken a look at him?" Charlie nodded, her brow knotted together as Stiles' expression changed.

She shrugged and nodded nonchalantly. "Besides, what else are we going to do? Death was always going to be the result, unless he trained. It's not like I can make it worse for him" She said pursing her lips. "Nice... thank you." Stiles breathed, pulling a face. "That's sure to boost my spirits."

Her face fell into a tight lipped expression. "You're welcome to have a go at it by yourself." She said sharply, tilting her head. "You're going to have to face a lot more than a few scrapes!" he called, pointing at his leg.

"then tell me, what will I be facing? Because so far I've heard you mention shadows a million times without actually telling me what the hell they are or what they can do. One took control of me for god's sake!" Stiles threw at her.

"I can't tell you everything at once, what am I ? Your mother? I don't have a ready to go manual for you to look through - a how to not get killed out here guide. You either pay attention to what I tell you, when I tell you. Or you fuck off and not bother me!" She threw, growing visibly angry. Her beastly brow was knotted together into one, and she was bearing her teeth like a dog.

Stiles flinched at the mention of his mother, his chest tightening into a scrunched up mess. "My mother is dead." he said, as calmly as he could muster, through his teeth.

"Then what, that gives you the right to be a demanding prick?!" she called, shaking her head. "Listen kid, you either suck it up or get out of my home." she added. As Stiles started to breathe heavily. "Let me know. Light's down in an hour." she hissed sharply as she kicked open a door which lead back into the gym.

"What?!" Stiles shouted lost, unsure what to do with the situation and even more confused about what he had done wrong. "what just happened? What did I do?"

"Don't let it bother you. She's gone off to brood." Lizzie murmured. "She does that when she's questioned." Stiles frowned at that and nodded. "She'll be smiles again in bit." her face slumped into a tired smile and nod. "You'll see."

"okay?" he said prying for more information.

"She wasn't always like that. This scattered I mean." Lizzie murmured suddenly as silence followed in Charlie's wake. Lizzie slid down her counter and curled up in front of the boarded up window. "It's this place, this god forsaken hell hole. But do you know what the worst part is? She can leave, she can wake up whenever she wants."

Stiles cleared his throat, unsure of what she was saying, and why of all people, she was saying these things to him. It had been obvious Lizzie had no tender feelings towards him. "Then why doesn't she?" Lizzie turned to look at him. "That's just the thing isn't it, what ever happened must have been so bad, that she chooses this. She chooses to be here." Her voice shifted. "And she has been here for so long."

"Whatever happened, it has been eating at her like a cancer. It festered inside of her, removing her from the real world to this one, where she is lord and master. She saves us, because she cannot save herself. Each person breaking her down year after year until there's nothing left. Nothing left of her. She's long lost. The sliver of Charlie that lives here is one to be pitied, and left to her own devices. The only thing you can do, is be kind to her."

Stiles had listened to her, patiently as she emptied out her heart. The girl's face was as broken as her story. "I think you're wrong." he said, finally as she slumped back against the wall. Lizzie shot him a look. "She's not someone to be pitied."

Lizzie swallowed a scoff and shook her head. "Maybe not. She's eccentric now, but it won't take much for her to lose herself completely."

Stiles' eyebrow jerked at that statement. "what are you planning?" Lizzie's lips curled ever so slightly. "She was right, you are smart."

She let out a deep sigh. "I'm tired, Stiles."

It was only then that he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the veins shining through her already pale skin. Her blonde hair was thin and patchy in some areas. She really did look tired, like she was going to keel over at any moment and never get up again.

"You're dying." Stiles said in a near whisper, shocked to hear something like that out loud, even if it came from his own lips. Lizzie pursed her lips and nodded deeply in acknowledgement, sending a shiver down his spine. "I've been dying for years now Stiles." she said dryly as if it was a common known fact. She once again turned, this time to an empty part of the room, in a most dramatic manner. Stiles rolled his eyes. The little girl seemed to revel in her disease and it was starting to piss him off.

He folded his arms, and eyed the door Charlie had left through. He considered going after her, but he had no idea what to say to her if he did. So, he turned the little blonde, whose eyes were drooping. "You seem surprisingly caveleer about this whole dying thing." he said dryly and more harsh than he had intended, but felt no need to rectify or soften what he had said.

She didn't look at him. "You're such a child." she remarked and rose to her feet. She ran her tiny hand through her thin hair once, slapping against her upper leg as her arm fell. He shook his head, not sure whether to feel offended of guilty. She did look so very pitiful, but that didn't take away from how impossible she had been from the first moment she arrived. He wondered what Charlie had done to get on her good side. Whatever it was, he'd consider doing the same, simply to make his stay here more bearable.

Lizzie sneered at him and flicked her head towards the door. "Sundown in a couple of minutes. We gotta move. "

As they turned the corner and passed underneath the thick slippery rope, thundering clashes rang from Charlie's home. Without the fires and lights, it seemed like an almost ordinary building. Stiles looked back, to find Lizzie shaking her head sideways as if the noises were a common occurrence. "You said she going to brood, not demolish her house." Stiles said sharply, gesturing at the front door.

She frowned and offered up her hands. "She has moods, okay?"

"Moods? You call that a mood?"

Stiles carefully pushed open the door, it snagged on a rug that had originally been on the other side of the room. He pushed himself through the opening and found Charlie sitting in the middle of a warzone. Her furniture had been knocked over and moved into collective piles against walls.

A pillow beside her, freed from all it's filling and feathers. She seemed to have nested in the chaos that was her relatively clean living room. She didn't look up at Stiles and Lizzie as they came in. Instead her eyes were fixated on her own boots which had rubbed off some of their colour onto the wooden floor.

Lizzie brushed past Stiles and knelled in front of her, lifting her chin to the left and right before allowing it to drop again. She let out a sigh and moved to the kitchen without any consideration she slammed the cabinet doors that she had left opened. Charlie didn't flinch. Her lids only lowered further as if she were ashamed by what she had done, or at least that she had been caught doing it.

Lizzie hissed as she gathered a few stray rounds that have found their way to the ground. Stiles was stuck to the ground as he watched the girls interact in such an usual and odd way. He had assumed that they had a tight knit relationship, but judging from what he was seeing now he could only compare it to a child taking care of and being disappointed by a drunk parent. It would explain the shifts in emotions but all three of them were in a coma, could one get intoxicated while unconscious?

He had seen his dad with a few too many and he recognised the scene before him. A small bite gnawed at the inside of his chest, but his legs compelled him to move towards her. As he did she let out a noise and whipped back her head, as if she was clearing her rage from her system. The knot in her brow stayed however as she looked at Stiles who sat down in front of her.

"You've got a knack for redecoration." Stiles joked. Her lips tightened to an extreme, if she were to clutch a lump of coal between them, it would turn into a diamond. "So, you came here to criticize my housekeeping?" she said sternly, with a bat of her lashes opening her eyes and looking at him intensely. "Truthfully, Lizzie dragged me here, I have no idea what to do now that you're like this. Did I say something?"

His expression was set with worry and a bit of irritation. His honesty was something that Charlie could appreciate. "I have moods." She explained dryly. He rolled his eyes at that, had they just chosen to collectively call horrid behaviour as having moods?

"I don't normally snap in front of newbies." She hissed, running her finger over the scar on her temple. Stiles simply waited as he felt there was something she wanted to add, but when nothing came he prompted her. "Look I'm really sorry I'm a bother to you, okay. I'm trying my best but you've got to admit, this...all this is a lot to take in." he said, gesturing around the room to emphasise his point.

She let out a ragged sigh and nodded. "Truthfully you're doing better than most. I mean you're not curled up into a ball and bawling your eyes out, exclaiming that you don't deserve this mess. I mean, you're owning the garbage dump that is your life, which is doing me a real solid." She peered in Lizzie's direction whom seemed to think it was most important to reorganise her cupboards, though she could hardly reach them. "I cried for days, but then again, I was four, so I think it's allowed." Lizzie mumbled.

"You're taking this whole fighting for your life thing as a champ." Charlie added, nodding to add to her statement. Stiles shrugged, slightly uncomfortable under the weird praise he was getting. "I'm kind of used to it. Back home there's lots of people and things out to kill me, pretty much every moment of every day." he breathed. Charlie let out a laugh. "is it because of your sense of humour and exceptional conversational skills?"

Stiles' lips curled but then he nodded as he thought back to who had made an attempt on his life in the last couple of years. "you know, it does add to it." he said pondering. She nodded as Lizzie chimed in. "I bet it does."

Stiles looked at her expectantly and was answered with a sigh. "I have... behavioural issues..." she breathed with a roll of her eyes. Stiles nodded deeply because he knew exactly what she meant. "That's why you asked if I had ADD." he commented. "yeah."

"I totally get it." Stiles started. "I was on a zillion behavioural meds when I was a kid, though I seriously doubt that there was something wrong with me. I mean I was just hyperactive and couldn't concentrate but what kid isn't like that? I mean if anything I think it's a kids prerogative to be hyperactive. And I may have had some learning disabilities and I get bored easily, but it's Highschool, what do you expect?"

"Did they take you to one of those psychologists and behavioural therapists where you got to read water stained magazines about kitchen appliances or trucks while your folks explain what's wrong with you?" She questioned, her brow quickly twitching. "Nah, teacher's did that, they convinced my folks that I wasn't right in the head and made me meet up with shrinks and stuff, it was ridiculous."

Charlie grinned widely, brushing the hair from her face in a charming manner that made Stiles aware of his clam hands, and how she had once held them. "What I wouldn't do for a few pops of Adderall though." she complained. "Yeah, I used to pop those like tick-tacks."

"Well isn't that Wizard, we have something in Common." Charlie scoffed, folding her arms infront of her chest. Stiles pulled a face, trying to not laugh at her while she was clearly still unsettled with anger. "Wizard is not an adjective."

"Why not? I can make an adjective out of anything I want!" She said sternly with a nod of her head. Stiles shook his in reply. "Not unless you're shakespeare." She lit up and straitened her back. She looked at him defiantly as she recited a piece from memory.

"I have liv'd long enough: my way of life is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not"

She had paused and emphasised the piece with perfection, her voice pleasant and ringing as she went. He then remembered the numerous vollumes on shakespear in her bookcase. Had she memorised all of them?

"Macbeth." Stiles breathed in response. She tilted her head in acknowledgement, she was clearly impressed by his identifying her piece. But she would test him.

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with sleep."

"The Tempest." He called swiftly, cocking her brow.

"Thou hadst been better have been born a dog. Than answer my waked wrath!"

"Othello." He answered with ease.

She paused for a moment and offered him a quick flash of her teeth as she licked them. "I'm impressed." she complimented, earning a loud and disgusted "Please!" from the kitchen where the little blonde had finished her task and had quite finished with their conversation. Charlie licked her lips and shot her a look, saying only her name, to which she seemed to respond in an even more irritated way. "What?"

It was then that the lights flickered once. Instantly Charlie Shot to her feet, her eyes set wide. She hadn't said a word but Stiles read from her expression that something was terribly wrong. She had launched towards an overturned table where she had left her weapons. She swiftly tied her straps and barked at Stiles to do the same.

The lights flickered again. Charlie repeated what she had said a moment before but this time Lizzie nodded quickly, her eyes as wide as hers had been. Her lip was tightly shut and she dug for her knife and retrieved it quickly.

"What's going on?" Stiles dared to ask. Charlie whipped back her head, almost angry at him for speaking at all.

He hissed at him, and shot an angry look at Lizzie, who seemed to know exactly what that meant. She stumbled out of the Kitchen and raised her knife to her face. "Get up!" The girl barked at him, gesturing with her tiny hand.

He whipped his head around, eyeing the room before looking back at her and complying. Charlie drew out her sword and headed towards the door, only looking back at Stiles once. "Shoot anything that tries to come. Remember, first and last line of defence." She slipped out of the door that was left ajar by him and pulled it closed with a mighty bang.

He eyed Lizzie, desperate for answers. He found something in her face that drove a shiver down his skin. She was scared, terrified even. Her eyes were wide, her mouth opened slightly, her lower lip shaking against her upper teeth. She clutched her knife as if it was the only thing keeping her upright.

"What's going on?" Stiles dared to throw at her, hoping she would snap out of whatever she was caught in. The lights flickered again, her eyes shot towards them, and she answered him. "They come from shadows. She build this place, like a fortress, to keep them out, every inch is lit. What do you think happens when they go out."

Stiles breathed an "oh my god." and drew the pistol from his holster, his hand shaking on the grip. "They've gone after the electicity?!" He cursed, his hand reaching for his hairline and pulling there as he realised. "She's gone out there!" Lizzie didn't look at him and cursed a "You think I don't know that.."

"Where has she gone? We have to help her!" He called, yelling almost. Convincing the girl as much as himself to move, as his legs had molten to the floor. He could feel the creature in the back of his mind. Nagging at him. He was no longer able to tell if he was simply remembering it speaking to him, or actually hearing it. "We stay put. What do you think will happen to her if she has to look after us out there? We'll get her killed!" She hissed, saliva launching from her lips in anger.

"We can't just do nothing!" Stiles shouted, just as fierce. She was about to reply when they were both silenced by rapid fire no more than a few feet from them. The gun was fired on the other side of the wall, and forced sweat down both their backs. Stiles fought the urge to look at his fingers, as he was desperately hoping to find an even number of fingers there, and turned to Lizzie instead.

"What do we do." he said as calmly as he could muster. She paused for a moment and shook a nod or two his way. "Light, first thing we need is light." she whispered.

"Okay. Okay! If they kill the lights we can't keep them from getting in, but maybe we can repell them." He threw, moving towards the cupboards in the kitchen before eyeing the room once. "Does she keep matches anywhere, flashlights, anything that's seperate from the eletrical system?"

Lizzie appeared next to him, more focussed and driven. She janked open a drawer and retrieved a box of matches, and shook them. She pocketed them quickly and nodded at him. "Any more than that single tiny box?" He nudged, squinting and shaking his head. Lizzie eyed him for a moment, snapping back to reality from whatever thought was clouding her and stormed into Charlie's bedroom, leaving him in the kitchen.

He felt compelled to follow her. This wasn't the first time he had found himself in a dangerous situations, and he had definately been in scarrier situations that this one, but he couldn't help but shake and desire the company and the possible protection a preschooler could provide. He sighed to himself and paced around the room once before following her.

She had upturned the mattess. The wooden frame had functioned as a storage unit, which played host to two flashlights and a couple of lanterns. She pressed a lantern into his arms, and dug back down to retrieve another. He pulled a face, and clumsily holstered his weapon, taking another lantern in his now free hand. She tossed him the matches.

Within a matter of seconds they had formed a circle of light and settled within it, awkwardly sitting next to eachother, their hands fused to their weapons. Stiles' fingers were nervously tapping on the grip. The room was eerily quiet and they hadn't heard anything from Charlie, say for the gunfire right after she left. The lights had flickered now and again but there was no appearent iminant danger to be found. It should have made the situation less tense, but Stiles found himself sweating more, each passing minute, to Lizzie's irritation.

"Could you stop fidgeting!" She bit at him, twirling her knife and pointing at him. He sucked in a breath and sneered at her. "Well excuse me for being uncomfortable with impending death!" She rolled her eyes at him and scoffed. "You'll be fine! Whatever comes for us, I'll protect you." She said. In that moment she sounded exactly like Charlie. She even carried the same expression. It pissed him off, sure he was freaking out, but he didn't need a little girl to cast herself into danger for his sake. Be that girl of indecided age or not!

"Don't be silly.." he started, reaching for her when the lights died. As the previously extremely agrivating bright lights dimmed one by one till they were all gone, Lizzie's lip started to tremble. She bit down firmly and pulled an angry face as last slowly faded. Stiles breathed an "Oh god.."

They were left with their lanterns and the limited light they offered the room. Their own shadows creepily being cast on the walls, looming over them in impressive size. Lizzie turned to him, taking in his panicked expression and tugging his shirt with her tiny hand. "First and last line of defense,"

"Right."

A dark, blood curdeling roar errupted, far closer than their fear could stand. Instantly Stiles rose and threw an arm over the still seated girl, shielding her. He pointed his pistol at the direction of the noise, but another growl stirred on the left. He grabbed the girl by her arm and janked her behind him. Then another in the other room. She struggled and freed herself from her grip.

"Stiles!" she grunted as his shaky hand reached for her again, blindly, behind him as his eyes were still shooting through the room, searching. "Stay behind me." He hissed, his voice clearly trembeling. "anything to go with that plan?!" Lizzie hissed as something moved in the other room. He turned to look back at her to offer her some lip, but she had ceased looking at him. Instead her eyes were fixated on the wall. His looming shadow had changed, mutated into something, there was smoke oozing out of it, out of him, it curled around him like sickly tails.

Her lips lined tightly as she flicked her knife. "As soon as something forms, you shoot it." She barked. It was times like these that Stiles did wish he had taken the bite from Peter in that dodgy parking garage. His life would have been a lot easier at times had he been able to rip someone to shreds. Detention being one of them, and demonic shadows another.

The wall shadow met the floor in a corner. It started to bubble and ooze like had seen happen the first night he arrived. Stiles let out a clearly disgusted sound as he raised his pistol to meet it. He launched a single slug from the barrel, causing the substance to splatter. Earning and even more disgusted yelp. "That...That is just gross..."

He lowered his weapon, pointing at it, wanting to make a comical remark about how Charlie should have painted her walls black instead, so the stains wouldn't show so much, but as he met the girls' yes they were fierce and angry. She pushed his arm. "Keep your eyes on the target!" She shouted. He let out a noise in defiance, pointing at the splatter only to find it bubbeling again.

"Woahh what the!" He uttered. "What, you thought you killed it?!" He smacked his lips and fired again. "I was kinda hoping!" he cursed back at her, firing again as it didn't cease to bubble. "How do you kill these things?!" He called as a low growling echoed through the room.

"Go for the heads." She said, as if reciting a rule. "They don't have heads yet! You told me to shoot them as soon as they appeared!" He complained, shouting over his shoulder. "Well then shoot them when they have heads!"

"You seriously have to give some thought to your instructions before you bark them!" He shouted, watching the black bubble, bits of bone and teeth sticking from the surface. "Just wait!" she barked again, earning herself a spiteful face. The creature bubbled further and erected itself, forming a disgusting heap of anger and sut. It hunched over and let forth a scream that shook the room. It was loud and sharp like crying children. Before heading towards them at an impressive speed. It lunged the barrel, as Stiles' panicky released a round, blowing out the back of it's head through it's mouth. Stiles fumbled, startled and disgusted as it crashed to the floor with a splat. "oh my god!" he muttered excited, but quickly discouraged as it started to bubble again. "ohhhh my god."

Lizzie swiftly grabbed a flashlight and slammed it into the pile that was forming, lighting the fluid. It looked even more ominous, but it stopped moving, to their relief. They turned to one another and briefly smiled. "okay so we just point light at them and they stop?" Stiles muttered, hardly believing what he was seeing.

"Not so tough now are you?" He said mocking. "Scary pile of gunk scared of a little light" he continued. Then the tar bubbled and released a low groaning breath, and the flashlight flickered, and died. It splattered into the substance with a splash and an added groan as Lizzie released it in shock. She cursed under her breath, taken aback by what had happened. "Faulty batteries?" Stiles suggested, sounding more bitter than he wanted. "No." The girl hissed.

He let out a groan and quickly pointed another flashlight at the pile that had grown exponensially since the death of the first. "Then we have to think of something quickly. They're draining the light." He concluded, earning a sigh in agreement from the little blonde.

He wasn't quite sure what had happened. One moment Lizzie was cursing something at him, shooting remarks about his inadequacy, the next thing he knew he was running. He was being dragged behind the little girl who packed an incredible speed.

Keeping a light pointed at the shadows had only been a momentary solution, other piles of gunk had appeared and they constructed themselves into full blown terrors at an impressive pace. Their claw like limbs had reached for them, and he was certain Lizzie had taken a hit, as he saw blood dribbling from her shoulder. She had pushed him aside and slit the creature's throat. It had been to no avail however, as they were quickly over run. They barely escaped the confines of the house and were now faced with the full exposure of the open road. It was dark and it seemed like there were even less streetlights actually operational than the first night he'd spent there.

The whole situation seemed quite surreal, within the confines of a new walls he was actually more scared than out in the open, where he knew there was all the more chance that he'd be ripped into shreds. There was a pounding in the back of his head, a voice he was all too familiar with that was becoming more painful to ignore with every passing moment. Even though he had at least spotted half a dozen creatures, some of which he fired a round at, and some of which earned themselves a proper slay by Lizzie, he was most afraid of himself.

He knew what he had done to Charlie when he had snapped, when the voice had taken over and he found himself trembling at the thought of it happening again. A bellowing roar erupted right behind him, instantly he ducked and turned, his firearm already straitened to release a round. Before he could squeeze one off the creature threw back its arm and sent him flying against a dead lamp post.

His spine cried as he was forced into the metal bar. He flicked back his eyes to the scene to see the girl having a stand off with the creature, she was clutching her tiny knife and eyeing the beast without any reservations. Her posture, her expression and her interaction with the creature were all very mellow. It was contemplating harming her and she was actually considering letting it. It was breathing a damp thick air, thick fluids escaping from it's jaws. The creature didn't want him, it wanted her...

He had simply assumed that the creatures would be after him, since Charlie had said they would be. She had been here often, so surely she knew how to wake up by now, why was she still being chased by wraiths? And why wasn't she moving?

"Lizzie!" He cursed, causing the creature to rear its disturbing mug, releasing low grunt as it launched towards him, claws stretched out, his jaws ajar revealing an impressive double row of teeth. "holy god" It was only then that she jumped into action. Before the black could engulf him, it's presumable neck was slit, releasing an even thicker substance that oozed out of it.

As its from collapsed onto the pavement, the little girl looked disappointed if anything. Stiles let out a laboured breath as he strained to pick himself up. "what was that?!" He threw, louder than he probably should have. He only answered with an angry expression which slowly softened. She let out a shallow breath and reached down to help him up. He took her hand but put no weight on it as he lifted. Her expression did not leave room for questions, she was drained.

"We need to find Charlie." she stated slow as she brushed some dirt off his shirt. Stiles shot her a questionable look to which she only let out another sigh. "She should have been back by now." She continued to explain. "If they got to the power, the first place she'd have gone to is the generator. Which is down the next block, if she was okay, the lights would have been on and we wouldn't have had to flee her fucking house. Now stop looking at me like that, and lets get a move on."

It was odd seeing her say such things and act in such a way while dressed in pastel pajamas. The wound on her shoulder had coloured her whole arm in a thick red, more the consistancy of syrup than actual liquid. Stiles gestured towards it, but she only shrugged and started pulling him on his way again. Which was becoming a habit in this place.

Without being able to catch his breath, they were running again, at an even faster pace than before. He wondered how often he'd have to come face to face with death before being allowed to leave this hellhole. Not that he'd have fewer such encounters in Beacon hills, but at least then he had his friends, and he knew that he was fighting for.

On his first night there, he only encoutered one creature, but this night he was confronted with numerous sightings and several encounters, he wondered what changed though his thoughts came to a close as they stood in front of a building which could only be described as huge and ugly.

As soon as they busted through the doors a scent of metal hit them. Luckily he could see the bronzen pipes and instalations, else he had assumed they had just walked into a murder scene and the smell was caused by pools of dried up blood.

To their surprise, the building was lit, and brightly lit at that. It seemed that Charlie had already taken care of whatever problem the generator was suffering. The room was eery and quiet, only disturbed by the little girl's shrill voice as she called for her friend, who was sufficiantly panicked by now.

"If she fixed the generators, where is she?" Stiles dared to ask what they were both thinking, earning a look from the little girl, who slowly moved onto the floor, touching the metal as she went. Stiles joined in, shouting for Charlie, who had yet to answer them. The room was vast, and similar to a factory floor. "Which way is the generator?"

Lizzie offered a silent nod and contemplated the question for a moment. It had either been a long time since she had stepped foot in that particular building, or she had simply never been there and was looking for clues. Nonetheless she marched into a particular direction, quite sure of where she was going. Stiles' stomach dropped, as he saw a slight dribble of blood on the floor heading west.

Their pace quickened at the sight of dark goop splattered against walls and markings on the floor. Soon they found shell casings, and lastly as they approached the larger than expected generator, they found her. She was sat on the floor, leaning back against the monstrous machine, surrounded by various tools, a shotgun in her hands, pointed at a splatter mark across the opposing wall. She was lazily eyeing her work when they approached. She quickly eyed them up and down and shot them a dirty look after.

"Why are you here?" She said snidely, scrunching up their nose as if they smelled of something foul. "We came looking for you! You've been gone for hours! Not to mention we had to flee your house because of the shadows fancied a relocation to a more pristine neighbourhood!" He yelled, to which she painfully squinted her eyes. She rolled back her head and lifted her hand slowly to press it against her head. "Are you two okay?" she asked quietly.

"Lizzie has a cut on her shoulder." Stiles said briskly, almost offended that she hadn't spotted the blood, as it had practically sleeved her whole arm. Lizzie shot him a dangerous look, one often found in displays of sibling rivalry, as one betrays the other to their mother. Stiles answered her with a look similar to hers, which made him feel all the more petty.

Charlie ripped the hand that seemed fused to her skin, from her forehead and lifted herself instantly, though that seemed to release a substantial amount of pain. She hissed as she ripped the girl towards her, manhandling her into a position that she could better look at her wound. Lizzie didn't struggle and only sighed as the dark haired woman started to prod at her injury. "Claw?" She questioned, to which the blonde nodded once. "It's shallow, a bandage will do" she said sternly, biting back anger.

She leaned back and retrieved a relatively clean bandage from one of her numerous pockets, and slipped the the girl's strap off her shoulder. She winced through out the process of wrapping her up, only to me answered with a steel expression from her older companion. Stiles watched the display with a turned up nose, but couldn't help but make a noise whenever the girl did. Charlie would gaze back at him with a quelling look, but he couldn't help it.

Being quite finished with the little girl's arm, he turned towards Stiles. "You have any injuries?" to which he quickly shot his head into a horizontal nod. She answered with a nod of her own and settled herself back down onto the ground, and lifted her shirt. "Good then you can help me." She muttered as the fabric snared on her leather holster. "Could you..." She said absently, perking her chest. He raised his brow but quickly caught on and knelt to unclasp her. As the leather slumped down around her and her weapons clattered she let out a laboured breath.

As she lifted her shirt, she unveiled an extremely nasty looking cut that stretched over her ribcage, about 5 centimetres beneath her bra. It was dribbling blood, a lot less than Lizzie's was, but it seemed a whole lot deeper. Stiles swore he could see a glint of bone. Lizzie, immediately sprung into action and held up her shirt, which she seemed to appreciate. Then she turned to him, more amused than in actual pain and nudge towards the wound. "Can you hold those two together? Close the wound?" She asked, sweet as maple syrup.

He let out a noise, eyeing the wound. "Isn't there a less pressurised task for me to do? Why not ask Lizzie, She's got tiny hands!" He tried as she retrieved a sowing set from one of her pockets. "Oh my god, you've got to be kidding..." He muttered as she handed him the needle and thread. "You're kidding!" he protested as he took it. She smiled at him briefly before giving him a nod. "Just hook that for me and hold the ends together, I'll do the rest."

Stiles let out a noise and knelt in front of her, handing her the now hooked thread. He felt the cut with his index finger, to which she did not respond. He pushed the two pieces of skin together, reminding him of a geography lesson on tectonic plates. He was making a mountain out of skin, and remembering that lesson was the only thing keeping him from freaking out.

She bit down on her lip and took the needle to her skin, curiously spending more time looking at Stiles than actually paying attention to what she was doing. "Are you okay?" She uttered after a small groan. His eyes snapped up to her.

"You are sowing yourself up, with a needle you have not sterilised and you're asking me how I'm doing?!" He cursed, emphasising each word. She let out a breath and nodded as she went in for another pierce. "Yeah, it's fine, come on, tell me a story, distract me." She tried, sucking in her words as she tugged at the thread. Lizzie nodded at him briefly before he racked his mind wondering what he could possibly tell her to distract her from the still gaping wound.

He chose to tell her about his friends, looking around the room instead at the bloody mess that was slowly dripping onto his fingers. He told her about Scott and how they had been friends since kinder garden. He told her about Allison, Isaac and Kira, only to finally arrive at the subject of Lydia. He clearly brightened at the mention of her and Charlie seemed to notice. She smugly smiled at him briefly as she brought he sowing to an end. "strawberry blonde hair you say?" She said as the needle separated with her skin. Stiles nodded. "Attitude issues?"

He knew that Lydia had been unconscious for a long time. Heck he had spent most of it stationed outside her hospital room, clutching those ridiculous balloons, hoping she'd wake up. He was scared for her, unbelievably freaked out for her safety, but hearing that Charlie had been there while she slept, however creepy that sounded, even in his head, made him feel a whole lot better. He could only imagine the discourse they'd have had, both girls being equally articulate and both knowing their own mind and being keen to enforce it onto others. He nodded as he had once again been staring at her too long while lost in thought.

"Seems like most of your friends have paid me a visit at some point." Charlie concluded as she shifted, clearly uncomfortable in her position. "Lydia was a handful though, kept calling me 'sweetheart' with every snide comment." She breathed "Any more I should know about? Is your friend Scott going to pay me a visit?" she muttered, settling back against the machine. Stiles pouted his lips and shrugged, "Ehh I don't know, I mean he's a werewolf, little socially awkward, but he grows on you. Like a fungus." He joked, to which she giggled.

Lizzie let out a noise, having let go of the shirt a long time ago, and observed the two quietly. She seemed to do that a lot, simply looking at people. He assumed she had been doing that for most of her young life, in the hospital. From experience he knew there wasn't a whole lot to do in a sterile room with gray drapes and an open butt hospital gown, except look at people. He looked around the factory like floor, there wasn't a whole lot to do here either.

"so-so what do we do now?" He muttered, unsure of himself. Charlie closed her eyes for a moment longer than could have been a blink and forced out a smile. "We wait for daylight." Lizzie answered, rubbing the skin around her bandages. "Here?" he gestured at the floor which had never been cleaned in the history of ever.

Charlie shrugged, but stared at him sternly. "You'll be fine." Her voice was sharp, she was losing patience with him. His stomach dropped to see her face harden again, since meeting her he had been convinced that it had just been her natural expression, that when resting her face just naturally looked as if she was going to shove a pencil into someone's eye, but now he wasn't so sure. At one moment she could look juvenile and giddy like someone her age should be, whatever that may be. Here she may have had an inhumane number of years to her name, but if she were to wake. How old would she be?

"How old are you?" Stiles dared to ask, only to clarify rather in a stumble that he meant on the outside. Charlie let out a noise and nudged her head to the side, offering him a seat besides her. He clumsily took it, knocking into her foot, no doubt sending a shiver of pain through her wound. She said nothing of it however, as she had turned to Lizzie, who refused to share in their campfire-esque ambiance and sat down on the other side.

She let out a sigh, as she had done often in the few moments that had passed since their arrival. "It was the day after my birthday." she started, surprisingly. Stiles had in no way expected for her to divulge how she slipped into a coma. There had been plenty of opportunities before, and she had skillfully danced around each of them. She could have done the same this time, and offered a vague answer and left it at that. Instead she chose to trust him, which caused him to sweat immediately.

"My older sister had flown in from her super expensive exclusive in the middle of nowhere college, and we were going to have dinner together, to celebrate. I was so excited. My sister and I had always had a rough relationship, mainly due to the fact that she was an absolute bitch, and I had made it my mission to make her days as difficult as I possibly could, in which I succeeded on many occasion. But- that day, I was so happy to have her there. Which I never admitted, obviously." Stiles smiled.

"She was driving us all to the restaurant. My parents, and me. But I was curious about her school and her life away from home, and kept asking her questions and making comments on how she had changed. I kept distracting her. I even made a comment on how terrible a driver she was. She was laughing so much she didn't pay attention to the road."

His stomach dropped at those last words. She had said them so coldly, so matter-of-factly that it made her seem even less humane than she already did. Her expression was one carved from stone and just as solid as her words had been. Stiles let out a breath, he didn't realise he was holding. "Last thing I..." she stopped slowly, letting the last word dilute into a sigh. "I'm twenty two years old."

She didn't seem interested in continueing their story, whatever she was going to add was painful. Stiles nodded deeply, pouting his lip "Older woman." He commented. "Hot."

He made her smile. He would have given her a reassuring squeeze of her arm or shoulder, but she was cut up pretty badly and his hands had gotten really sweaty looking at her and listening to her voice. The situation was quite surreal, a moment ago he was being chased by creatures, his heart was pounding beating out of his chest, but in this moment of peace his heart was pumping rapidly, he felt hot all over and nervous.

He had noticed, he had started to feel things. His senses were slowly coming back to him, he could hear clearly now, and he picked up the metal scent, and he could feel the differences in his own body temperature. He was improving, but he couldn't help but wonder why. He hadn't done anything special. He didn't go through any ritual or incantation, and getting beaten into a pulp at training couldn't have done it. So why was he improving? He still couldn't feel the temperature of the room, and he was hesitant to touch Charlie and find out whether she colder or warmer than him. But he felt confident he would arrive at that point soon.

Charlie seemed less withdrawn after his remark, though she seemed to struggle to keep her eyes open. Her right eyebrow was cocked up in a sharp angle, no doubt pressing back a thundering headache, and her blinking seemed to lasting longer each time she lowered her lids.

It was endearing in a way, though before he could remark upon it, it hit him, that it was still very much night time, and those creatures had sucked the light out of their flashlights. Could they do the same thing with the lights here?

He pulled a face, trying to think of a way to gently ask, without disturbing her or causing her to slip back into her stern state, but she had already picked up on it. "We should be safe here, for the night." She said, sleepily.

"I've never seen them so vicious though, you must be something real special." she added, lazily as if it had no bearing on the situation. Stiles shifted, trying to catch her attention but she had already closed her eyes. "W-what does that mean?" He tried, gesturing though she wouldn't see it. Charlie didn't reply, instead Lizzie offered an answer. "It means that in all the time she's been here, there is something different. It means you two are in trouble." she said sharply.

"Get some sleep, I'll take first watch." Lizzie called.

Stiles slumped back against the machine, to find Charlie even more limp than she had been before. Her scars were once again coated in filth and dirt, her hair was messier than it had ever been, coated in a layer of what was presumably dust. Flakes of an unfamiliar substance sticking out between the locks of her less dark hair. Her shirt was sticky and bloody below her chest. Blood had trickled it's way down to her cargo pants, much in the same way rain would on a car window.

Charlie had already lost consciousness, her lashes loosely pressed together. She was still clutching her shotgun, her fingers wrapped around it like she was choking the life out of her worst enemy. The last time he had watched her sleep, he was fascinated by them, he watched them flutter as she dreamt. He tried to envision what she might be seeing or doing in her dream, but when she woke up she seemed more distressed by the event than happy. Was she going to dream again, and what was so bad about a dream?

He knew all about nightmares, especially since he had been claimed by the negitsune, but truthfully he had had nightterrors since he was young. Especially when his mother had fallen ill, he couldn't go a night without waking up screaming. It drove his dad absolutely insane, but he would always come running, no matter the hour. Much like he had done the first time he confused reality with dreams. He was well practised, and he fell into the rhythm with an almost alarming ease.

He held him, while he screamed, untill he stopped. Calling his name, calling him back to reality. His dad always pulled them out of his bad dreams, there was no doubt that he was trying even now. His father was seated beside his bed, talking to him, comforting him, telling him how worried he was. Stiles was sure of it.

What he wouldn't give, to just send a message to the outside world, to just let him know that he was working on getting out. That he was on his way, and that he shouldn't worry. That he was going to be fine. Even if he wasn't, that was the kind of thing people liked to hear, wasn't it? His dad wouldn't believe a word of it though.

This must have been how his mother felt, she too couldn't distinguish between reality and dream, and in all likelihood she wound up here. He paused.

If his mother did wind up here, there was a good chance she still lived out many years, even in a place like this, she would have been alive. She would have discovered things, interacted with others, perhaps even with Charlie.

"Charlie!" he suddenly called, rausing the warrior princess from her sleep. She instantly rose up, her hand covering her wound to keep it from ripping open. "What?!" She called, her shotgun already pointed out in front of her, her eyes scanning the room.

He instantly regretted calling out to her in such a fashion, but there was no time for remorse or apologies. "My mother!" he ineloquently tried, trying to find the words to best explain himself. earning himself a most angry and confused look. Even Lizzie had sprung from her position, strait into action.

"My mother, she, she was sick. eight years ago, she died. Do you think she might have come here? She was unsconcious and I think she may have been here. Were you here? Did you see her? Talk to her?" he rambled on, hoping he was making since, but being perfectly convinced he wasn't. So he just kept going, and going. Until Charlie's expression softed and she slowly lowered herself. She placed one of fingers on his lips, shushing him. He hadn't realised it, but a few tears had found their way out of his glands.

"When did she die?" Charlie asked calmly. She removed her hand, allowing his to speak. "Eight years ago." He stuttered out, only realising then that Charlie had only been there for seven years, and that there was no way she could have had any interaction with his mother. "Name?" She asked, catching him off guard. "Claudia. Claudia Stilinski." He quickly uttered. Did she have some information after all?

She closed her eyes, and he watched her as her eyebrows knotted together. "There is a mention of a Claudia Stilinski in the files." She said, as if she wasn't quite sure of herself either. "Files? What files? You mean the notebooks at your house?" Charlie nodded.

"The one before me, he kept records, like I do." She said, as if this was a well known fact. Stiles shot her an impatient look and she continued, rather reluctantly. "I keep records on everyone I meet. This is the last stop for most people, and whatever they have to say should not be forgotten. I found records that had been kept before me, most are just little notes, final words for those that only briefly visit. Some had entire chapters. So I did the same, everyone I met, I wrote about."

His throat closed up at the very possibility that his mother's last lucid words might be somewhere in those notebooks he spent so long looking at it. He kicked himself as he couldn't remember if he had seen her name on one of the spines. "S-so, you- you have. My mother?" he said as he choked on the lump in his throat.

She nodded only once. "Lizzie. How are you holding up?" She asked, to which she only nodded. "Okay then." She reached out her hand, asking Stiles to get up. He bit down on his lip and let out a breath as he took it. She whinced as she pulled him upright.

"We're moving out."


	8. From the pan into the fire

The streets were as dark and gloomy as they had been on the way there, but having Charlie with them improved their chances of not being mauled or clawed to death by at least thirty percent. Since they had started heading back, she had not shown for a single moment that she was injured. She had struggled and groaned in pain while she was getting up, clutching his arm and squeezing it to a point where he thought the bone might snap, but as soon as she was upright, every trace of suffering had dissipated. Her expression was stern but effortless, like she had never been injured in the first place.

Like a world class actress she had put up a front. Lizzie hadn't copied her steel like expression and hadn't touched her bandaging since they had left that bronze building. There was confidence in their step and it was infectious. His back had bothered him immensely, but just being around them he had hardly even thought of the pain.

Even the shadows they encountered were taking down with ease. They dispersed with a single shot to the head, and a chuckle of Charlie to follow. She would mock them by shouting the most ridiculous swearwords he had ever heard. They were the kind you would teach to a child to prevent them getting suspended at elementary. Thus far his personal favourites had been ; "overgrown weed", "crusty crabbert", "bagged milk", "snapped pencil" and "Vegemite."

Weirdly enough she had let out a sigh after each kill. She seemed disappointed at the lack of action they were getting. She was wasting bullets op puppies, she had said. Which struck Stiles, the shadows that had engaged them seemed all alike to him, sure he had noticed that the creatures differed in size and structure. Some of them walked on four 'legs' some on two, some crawled around on single whatever. Teeth, claws, fangs, hell he had even een tentacles but he was convinced that on a one on one fight, they'd be able to take him easily. He had squeezed off a round or two on their way but his hits were no where near a one shot, he was miles away from their head. If he couldn't even shoot one of these 'puppies', how would he fare against whatever else was out there?

Charlie was on point, and the entire time they had walked, Lizzie had been looking at him, sizing him up. It was seriously unnerving. Then as Charlie was shooting down a mongrel, she janked him closer by the arm. Clearly infuriated by something she hissed at him. "You have to promise me something." Her voice was sharp as a knife, and just as hurtful, though she had yet to stab at him. "This place. It's like groundhog day. Every day is the same. The hardest thing in this world is living in it. And you,...You're nothing but a feeble attempt at keeping her sane." She spat, to which Stiles pulled a face. If this was her asking for a favour, she had to work on her people skills.

Her expression saddened and she cleared her throat. "But you-" Her voice broke at that. "You take care of her, you hear?" She was raising her voice as Charlie cackled over her words, laughing as something splattered. "You get her out of here." she demanded quickly, before straitening herself and raising her knife for good measure.

He was stunted by the girl's actions, he had never intended to do wrong by Charlie, and if he could get her out of here, he would. Of course he would, but she had been here seven years, if she had wanted to leave why hadn't she already? And what made Lizzie ask it of him, she wasn't the type to ask help from anyone.

He grew nervous, and eyed his protector, who seemed to be enjoying herself as she twirled her shotgun. She let out a noise and spat onto the floor, earning herself a disgusted and surprised face. Lizzie however did not react, he imagined she was used to it. She wasn't exactly the most feminine woman he had ever had the good fortune of meeting. And just like that her raven hair flipped as she turned towards him and slyly winked, as if she had to prove his thoughts wrong. The spitting image was immediately replaced by a less PG13 rated version, sending a keen sting through his lower gut. He felt a rush of something not as honorable as affection as she whipped back her head and brushed down her hair. She smiled for a moment as if she had read his mind and looked back at him, wanting to scold him for his guttered thoughts.

She brushed a hair out of her widening eyes as she turned back towards him. Her face fell as well as her Jaw. She was shouting something at him, and her hand reached for his chest. He couldn't hear her, or even read her lips as he realised that she was looking past him, not at him.

She pulled him towards her and behind her, shouting orders he did not hear or understand. She threw him strait into another pair of hands, though these were smaller. His heart stopped as Lizzie shouted something, dragging him behind her. Her fingers were gripping his shirt so tightly that he was sure she was going to poke holes through the fabric.

They were running so fast they could have won gold at the Olympics and then some. His heart was pounding, his body heating up to a boiling point, only to find relief in the cold sweat that was running down his back in streams. Charlie was running behind him, which he only knew due to her voice echoing through his skin. He didn't have to look behind him. He knew where she was, she was fine, she was shouting. He didn't have to look behind himself.

He wished he hadn't looked over his shoulder. The creature that was giving them chase caused his heart to beat even faster, if that was at all possible. It could only be described as horrifying. It was made up from the shadow like material he had seen about but from its liquid-like body, faces were showing, parts of limbs sticking from the sticky goop. From within it's body it was excreting some sort of damp, a smoke that twisted as it did itself. It was constantly bubbling over itself, it's liquid coating the parts and faces which clawed and thrashed. As he turned he wanted to stop in his tracks and gouge out his own eyes. The faces were screaming, the creature made a sickening sound as it moved and a decomposing smell entered his nostrils, he doubted he could ever smell anything else.

The tempest that Charlie was seemed was nowhere to be found. Her eyes were spread wide and she was screaming something inaudible at him. She was clutching her shotgun and reloading at an amazing pace. She turned on her heel and released her rounds and in a single spin she was running again, not losing momentum for a single second.

In the training he had received earlier that day, Charlie had him running, and his legs were complaining and his sides were burning, he felt the same things now. His sides were about to rip apart under the strain of his over expanding lungs, he could taste and smell only blood and rot and he was convinced that he was going to be sick.

He had to breathe, he had been holding his breath ever since they had started running, he had to let go and take in another breath. "Holy mother of god!" He cursed as he started to get accustomed to the speed. "What is that?!"

Charlie only shouted in reply to keep running. Lizzie turned to look over her shoulder, her face was a deep red and covered in sweat. "Coming up on base!" She screamed as she turned the corner, dragging Stiles behind her.

She had lead him back to Charlie's home, which would surely get destroyed by the sheer magnitude of the creature that was trying to kill them. Lizzie slid under the wet rope and pulled Stiles with her. "Cmon!" she shouted as Charlie was lagging behind, trying to slow down the beast.

Charlie approached and slipped under the rope, reached into her back pocket and retrieved a lighter. The rope had been soaking because it had been dipped in oil, which she set aflame. "So I'm guessing that's not a puppy?" Stiles commented, earning a face from Charlie, who immediately climbed a metal ladder at the side of her building. The fire had soon spread through the gate around the complex, surrounding them in a literal wall of fire. The creature was coming, at a rate much slower than their own, sliding and blubbering his way towards them. The faces screaming.

"Is the gate going to hold it?" Stiles asked. Lizzie shook her head as she searched for his hand. Instantly he turned to her and slid a leg in front of her, a hand on her head. He expected her to push him away, but instead her hand reached for his shirt and lingered there. He wanted to say something reassuring, but as the colossal creature headed towards them, he couldn't think of any. She wasn't going to buy the cliche "It's going to be okay."

They were catatonically screwed.

"Cover your eyes!" Charlie screamed, as she stood proudly on top of the building. She was clutching a weapon that rivaled the magnitude of the beast. Instantly Stiles hunched over and covered Lizzie's ears, not following her instructions at all. He clearly had not understood her. Charlie let out a beastly noise as she launched something from the enormous barrel, knocking her back substantially. A huge ray of light followed the rocket like projectile and plunged into the creature releasing a disturbing glottal sound as it screamed. Light and sparks ripped into it's body, blinding Stiles as he had watched the event unfold.

It stabbed into his eyes, through his nerves, numbing his brain. He could feel Lizzie in his arms and the heat of the flames, but he couldn't hear anything over the deafening sound of three dozen screaming voices, cursing as hissing as if they were burning alive. His stomach churned at the sound of it. His eyes had started to tear, droplets were streaming down his face as he tried so desperately to pry his lids apart. It was horrid, not being able to see what was going on. Was the creature defeated? Was it still coming towards them? How close was it?

The creature was still screaming, but he could not distinguish if it was getting closer or backing off. After a few seconds he dared to open his eyes, stinging as she could only see a swirl of colours. He was blind, actually blind. He couldn't even see the shapes of what was before him, he couldn't even see the silhouette of Lizzie whom he could feel wriggling out of his arms. His chest closed and his mouth dried only soothed by the little girl's hand which was tugging his arm. Clumsily he followed it, what he assumed would be back to the house. senseless he tripped and crashed into a plaster wall. He was already inside. Charlie. Where was Charlie.

He was scared out his mind as the door behind him closed, and the screams made way for a single voice, a voice he knew all too well. His voice curdled his blood into a thick paste as Lizzie lead him further into the room. The colours in his eyes were fading and soon he saw absolutely nothing but blackness.

"Stiles..." He whispered to him in that graveling way that made him shudder. He tried to tune the creature out, he tried not to listen to it, to replace his speech with silence, but he could still hear it muttering, whispering to him. Tempting him to listen. He wanted to scream, much in the same way as the faces had as he felt his darkness licking at his temples.

He felt tiny hands dart over his arm, she was saying something, something rushed. It was important, he could tell, but if he turned to listen to her, he would hear him too. He wanted to speak to her, to tell her to get away from him, but he did not know if he had actually said it, or had only thought he had. He feebly tried to talk to her, feeling horribly blind and mute.

He screamed for her to get out, but just like that he heard them clearly. The girl was chanting "First and last line of defense" in a way that reminded him of a children's choir, her voice echoed through the dark only to be slit in half by his voice. "Let me in Stiles.." it whispered.

"I can protect them. The creature is coming for them, and who will save them? You? You couldn't even hit a puppy" He felt his bandaged hand run inside his skin, raking over his ribs and tempting his heart. "That weapon will not have stopped it. They are going to die." It continued to tempt him. He turned his head as he could feel it's breath upon his cheek, huffing. Images entered his mind, of Charlie screaming, of Lizzie crying as she collapsed onto the floor, her gut bleeding. They were hurt, bleeding. They were dying. "If you want them to live, you have to let me in Stiles...Together,... we can protect everyone."

Stiles huffed and thrashed as a weight pressed down upon him. He had to save them. He felt his tears run down his cheeks as he begged once more without a real message. He sucked in a breath, shook once and let the creature enter.

And just like that, that overwhelmingly crushing fear that had plagued his mind, seeped away. In a single breath he felt powerful, and strong. Confident to the point where it was sickening to his body. He flashed open his eyes to find not the Creature, but Charlie pressing down on him. His eyes slowly adjusted to the scenery, the light.

Her knee was forced into his chest, her hands forcing down his arms. Her face hovered over his. She was paler somehow, especially now that the lights were turned back on. She was squinting, angry. Her mouth ajar, her tongue dancing from her palate to her teeth. She looked worried. She was shouting at Lizzie, ordering her to do something, then she lowered herself as the tiny blonde scurried away.

"Hello." She whispered to him. Stiles grunted in reply as his eyes darted over the room slowly and finally ended on her, on her lips especially. Tea rose in colour, chapped and thinning in anger. In his chest an overwhelming urge bubbled, to see blood trickle over them, painting them in a lush red. "Hello..." he answered and shifted beneath her, freeing a hand and punching her swiftly in her side. She let out a hiss but did move. She only pressed down harder and secured his hand again.

He had hit her on her stitches, he was certain of it. But she did not let it show. "Why did you let him in?" She asked calmly. He thrashed in her grip, she was surprisingly strong and it was strangely invigorating for him. He could feel the blood settle against her stitches and he could hear her heart beating, he could smell her fever, fighting possible infection and it was delicious. He wanted a piece of it, he wanted all of it. He wanted to open her up and drink her screams.

He thrashed again, and found himself stronger. But he would wait...He would play. He laughed at her in a slow hearty breath. "What do you think you'll accomplish?" He whispered to her, lifting his head to meet hers, looking deeper into her eyes. "I saw how you ran from the creature outside. I saw your fear..." He hissed at her, smiling half lidded. She did not reply to him, but he could see the corners of her eyes twitch.

He pressed his body upwards and slid his arms from underneath her hands, shifted and knocked her off him. She gracefully whipped back her leg and was upright in a fraction of a moment. "Why did you let him in?" she repeated, her brow now connected in a worried knot.

He let out a breath, her motherly demeanor was irritating to him. She straitened herself and he followed, hoisting himself up slowly, staring at her. He stepped towards her, but she defiantly remained where she was. Her eyelids drooped slightly as she tilted her head to the side. She twitched once as a distant cry whispered in her living room. "The beast lingers..." He commented darkly. "You are scared of it, I can practically taste it..."

"Hey...Hey look at me." He lured. For all that you are, you are just a little girl" He whispered as he stepped closer and let his fingers trace the scar on her temple. The ground shifted, the creature had clearly found itself near the building. Perhaps it had even breached the lit gates. Her heart rate accelerated, tying a knot in his gut which pulled at him. He had to control his lips, as they had started to curl on their own.

"Jezus Stiles, your monster is quite the melodramatic piece of shit." She suddenly spurted with a strait face, and proceeded to ram her elbow into his gut. She struck him again as he toppled over, steadying himself against the wall in front of him. He rolled his eyes but was smacked against the wall. "Why did you let him in?" She said sternly, growling at him.

It was ridiculous, she was disappointed in him? She was disappointed in HIM?

His chest began to heat up, as he rammed his fist towards her, which she deflected with a flick of her wrist. She was mocking him with a her cold eyes and her thin lips. She was old and had strength that rivaled his own, but there hadn't come a day he would be defeated and she sure wasn't going to bring it about. He put every ounce of strength into his hits, and he knew they hurt as she took them, but she still remained the statue. His strength should have knocked her back, but she had dug her heels into this blasted floor. She still would not budge, not give him the satisfaction, not give him the thrill of her pain. Selfish filth!

Oh how he wanted to skin her, wanted to taste the sweat on her brow as she begged for the sweet relief of death. The mere thought of it tickled him, but when he reached for her again he stopped and trembled a little. Why, why was he trembling?

In the back of his mind something pulled, boy was fighting him. He was pulling at his already exhausted form. He wasn't crumbling like he was supposed to, why was he there? The boy stirred just beneath the surface and the closer he got to the girl, the more he was this pest so compelling for him?

The girl was standing in front of him, cocky as a freaking peacock, when the smaller child re-entered the room. He rolled his head towards her, and she visibly feared him. Her eyes grew wide at his gaze and her body froze. She was clutching a notebook, old and tattered. Charlie perked up as the child threw it at her.

Then she turned to him. He watched her movements with fascination. Her proud smile, it was infuriating. He stepped closer to her and rammed his hand against her side. She did not flinch, even when he forced his fingers between her stitches. Her body reacted, heating up, breathing accelerated, as did her heartbeat, he could feel it against his skin. He could feel it tingle his heart, but her face, her face did nothing. She didn't whine or beg or plead. She didn't even make a sound apart from sucking in a breath!

He gritted his teeth in frustration as he hissed at her. Sweat bubbled onto her forehead when a thought came to girl was shaking in her tiny nonexistent boots. She was terrified for her. He pulled back his hand, admired the blood for a second and turned to the little girl. Charlie was protective, overly so. To crack her, he had to crack the little one's head on the pavement..

But as he took a step towards her a hand grabbed his neck and yanked him down to the floor, crashing his back into the ground, forcing his remaining breath out of his lungs. "Lizzie." she said it only once, and the girl disappeared behind the door without rebuttal or question.

She slid down and smacked her boots on top of his chest. "How are you feeling?" He could hear the fluttering of pages. She was reading... She was reading the blasted notebook. He only rolled his head towards her. She still had the markings of his previous attempt on her life. Her neck was still red and raw from his fingers. And his didjets were begging to find a place on her skin again. He had reveled as her breath was trapped beneath him, her gurgling sounds were like music. Even as she was weighing down on him, with her dirty combat boots, there was something pulling him towards her.

"So. Are you done?" She barked quickly. He squinted and sucked in a deep breath. This game wasn't going anywhere. He knocked her feet off his chest and wrapped his his fingers around her leg, pulling her onto the ground. She smashed into the ground with a delicious thud. A hearty laugh escaped him as she looked up at him defiantly. Her smug expression hadn't changed. "I asked if you were done." She breathed. "Done with what..." He hissed. She smiled broadly "Being a coward."

There was no point to her, except the pain he could inflict on her and he was done waiting. The child would follow. He reached down and picked her up by her throat, lifting her above the ground. Her eyes shifted, she had clearly underestimated his strength. He squeezed her throat a little, to remind her and called out to the child. "Lizzie..."

"Lizzie come and play~" He rang sweetly, luring the child. But moments passed and the door remained closed. The child did not appear. He shook the girl and rammed her against the wall once more, making sure the blonde had heard. He could feel her angst oozing out of the creeks in the door. Surely the girl cared...

But she didn't come out...

Charlie had turned towards him, a sliver of blood oozing from her lips. He smiled as she shook in his hand. "She has her orders..." she hissed, turning her mouth into a cocky smile. "You're an idiot. Now kick out this shit so we can talk." She hissed. She was addressing the boy? Hilarious. Like that infant in his mind could possibly extract him on pure willpower. Ridiculous.

He let loose a humming sound and cocked his head. "You know, he did exactly what you said. He changed the conditions to the game. Added strength to his arsenal." He said sweetly. "Guess you forgot to mention that there was no way he could control me. He followed your advice, and now? He's screaming. You want to hear him? He's quite the talented vocalist." He taunted her.

Her brow knotted into one and she scrunched up her nose. "Control is overrated." She hissed and freed herself from his grip. She had swung her body forward and hooked her legs behind his. Pushed him over with his hands. Ingenious, but futile. This whole exchange of strength was pointless. He stumbled back for a second and straitened himself. He had is strength yes,but the boy's body was filled with weakness.

"Stiles. First and last line." She repeated. "Sooner you kick him out, the sooner we can get to your mother." She said matter-of-factly. He was about to mock her vain efforts, but from within him the boy had started to move. He was pressing against his surface, screaming in anger not fear. This girl was stirring him up.

He quickly moved and struck her with the back of his hand, forcing her back onto the ground. He was about to strike her again when he was faced with an open page. The notebook and fallen out of her hands moments before, but now she had unfolded it in front of him, and as his eyes fell upon the words the boy stopped for a single second. Tears trickled down his cheeks and the boy bursted through as the banging of a gravel rang through his ears.


	9. A mother's touch

Year of 2004 (Guess)

Claudia Stilinksi (F):

Age : 32.

Residential area : Beacon hills.

State : Unmentioned.

Stay : Periodic / brief.

Status : Passing.

Additional information : Seems to be unaware of situation, doesn't respond to explanation. Forgetful.

He clutched the book and turned the page. The following few pages were filled with dialog and notes. His fingers ran across the words, they were neatly written in preschool handwriting. The writer had made these notes over several days seeing as it had been done with different colour pens.

According to the notes, his mother had slipped in an out of this place, and couldn't distinguish between the two. Which made sense, she often mentioned vivid dreams and she would tell him about shadows and tall buildings but back then he had disregarded her. He thought she had been delusional, because that was what the nurses and doctors said when they sedated her so that she couldn't hurt herself, or him. She must have been talking about this place. No wonder she was scared.

He scanned over the words quickly, not sure what he was looking for. Perhaps he was too excited or curious, or maybe he scanned so that he wouldn't be caught off guard by anything. He trembled in his whole as he read. Most of what she had said were utterances of confusion and mentions of the hospital. She talked about his dad a few times, mentioning how he worked too much and how much she loved him. She had told his person that his dad worried about raising him without her, how he had cried beside her bed.

"It's painful. Watching him crumble alongside me. And sometimes I forget why he looks so broken, and he has to tell me. Each time he tells me he breaks a little more."

Stiles sucked in a breath to keep himself from crying, alerting Charlie who had been cradling Lizzie. Her gray eyes shot up to look at him. She hadn't looked directly at him since he had threatened and beaten her, and he had been too afraid to say anything. He had driven the creature out of him, but not before it could do harm, especially to Charlie. Her eye lids lowered as she registered him and nodded.

Lizzie had left the bedroom after Charlie had given her the okay. Her little face was stained with tears and she fell into her protector's arms with a sob. Charlie just held her and told her that she did well. A wash of shame rolled over Stiles, choking him and churning his gut as they slid down onto an embrace on the floor. Charlie just petted her absently and soothed her with kind words, not unlike a mother. Not unlike his mother.

He used to have fits like these, cry alot, when he was younger, especially when he was on medication. His mother would sit by him, and hold his hand. Just looking at them dried up his throat and mouth. He had turned to the notebook, not knowing what to say to excuse himself. There was no excuse. He was a danger to the two girls, he was sure of that now, if he hadn't been already. He couldn't control the creature and if this carried on, he would kill them.

But then Charlie cleared her throat. He couldn't look at her to let her know she had his attention, but she started talking anyway. "Come sit with me?" She said, extending her hand. It wasn't shaking, nor was her voice. She sounded confident and clear, like there had never been cause for grief. She was offering him comfort, he knew it. She had done the same thing on his first night. She had slept beside him, and held him and made sure that he knew it wasn't a big deal. She must be used to it, this kind of exchange, fighting and such. But that didn't make it okay, and knowing she thought it was, made it all the worse. She jerked her head, summoning him towards her. "Bring the book."

Slowly he rose and sluggishly he made his way to her. He took a deep breath and took her hand. Lizzie made no attempt to acknowledge him and remained perfectly still. He lowered himself next to her, as close as he could stand. As he sat his back to the wall Charlie snaked an arm around his neck, letting her hand trace his chest. He looked at her, his face contorting in a mix of emotion. She slumped a smile and pulled him towards her. She planted a kiss on his temple. "You did well."

He exhaled, there was no point in fighting her on it. He had broken their rule, their first and last line of defense but she didn't seem to want to hear it. She didn't seem to have the energy for it in the first place, and neither did he. Charlie had roughed him up rather well and his body had started to ache all over. He had been cut earlier during training and he was sure his cuts had started to bleed simply from his accelerated heart rate of the last two hours.

They sat still for a moment, he felt not deserving to read his mother's words now. He felt undeserving of everything, especially Charlie. He did not feel unlike an abusive parent or husband, being forgiven although all parties knew what was wrong with the situation. Surely she must have noticed as well. She was a experienced person, and a clever one at that. Yet her hand still lingered on his chest, her fingers absently tracing circles over his collarbone. She had janked both him and Lizzie into a tight hug. It called for his touch as well, to close the circle or wrap his hand or arm around Charlie, but he couldn't. His body simply didn't move, however much he wanted to.

She seemed to notice his hesitation and flashed her eyes at him. And for a moment he could see something in them as they trailed to his lips for a second, a fraction of a second. But she definitely did, and his heart began to pound. She looked back up and him and brushed her head against his neck, and rested there. She pulled Lizzie closer who had stopped crying a while ago.

Her hair smelled of earth, blood and a hint of lavender. It was an odd mix, but he leaned back against her, swallowing back the lump in his throat, wondering what he should say. They sat there for a while. She eyed the the ravage that was her living room, and he counted her breaths. Her hand had stopped tracing circles and was now clutching his shirt.

"Stiles." She said softly, lifting her head from his shoulder, to which he only replied with a grunting sound that freed up his throat. "Help me get Lizzie to bed."

The little girl had fallen asleep in her arms. She had left wet patches and finger creases on Charlie's shirt. She shifted, gently sliding her leg underneath the child to lift her. She picked her up by her armpits and carried her against her chest, like any young child the girl connected her hands behind her mother's neck. Stiles stirred and quickly shot up to open the door to the bedroom.

It creaked in it's hinges as he pulled at the knob. He didn't follow Charlie, only watched from the doorway. She pulled away her awfully thick duvet and tucked in Lizzie as if she did so every day. A stray hair was brushed from the little one's eyes, she was covered and kissed and wished a good night. She lingered by the bed for a moment longer than had been normal, whispering something he couldn't quite hear. Charlie brushed past him as she exited the room and crashed down on the thoroughly wrecked couch. She wanted to talk.

Stiles stood in front of her, lingered more like and pocketed his hands to keep her from seeing them shake. Truth be told, he was terrified and absolutely gutted over what had transpired earlier. He knew he ought to leave, to keep them safe, but he also knew that he would die within the first hour, and then what would happen to his friends?

It felt much the same like he was as sitting in front of the principal, being scolded for bad behaviour or falling grades or something, and he'd have to go home and tell his dad that he got an extra month of detention added to his sentence, but this was way worth. In this case he actually cared what she thought of him. He might die right on the spot if she told him to go.

She turned to him then, eyes flaring in the way they did. She twisted on the couch, pulling up her leg and faced him. She was looking at him expectantly and before he could even think, the first thing he mouthed made her twitch. "I'm sorry." He breathed, his voice audibly broken. She raised her brow and for a moment he was convinced she was going to whack him around the head. He pulled up his shoulders but the blow remained absent. "Why did you let him in?"

He stared at her for a little, before taking to admiring his shoes. She had asked him the same thing when he had been taken over, and he had already voiced his answer then, only she could not hear it from the creature's lips. He wanted to be stronger and the negitsune had strength. He just wanted to protect them, but he would never be able to do so on his own. He had never been able to protect anyone on his own. He always had his friends, and it was hard to fight without them. He had become fully reliant on their skills.

"The creature, has a name." He started carefully, ringing his hands. "It's called a nogitsune. A dark Kitsune. A demonic fox. They are tricksters, they...they thrive on chaos and strife. They're strong, like seriously strong. And... and I'm possessed by one." He took a breath. "I'm a danger to you, and to Lizzie. I can't keep him out. I'm not strong enough."

"Our shortcomings and regrets take form in this place, it takes the form of what you know to be evil. A psycho demonic fox in your case. Why didn't you tell me you had a nogitsune on your ass?" She said calmly. He sucked in a breath and scratched the palm of his left hand, still staring at his feet. "You won't look at me the same." he said quietly which she answered with a noise.

He couldn't bear to look at her, her eyes had surely changed, she surely despised him. He wasn't a stranger to telling lies, but his lies had endangered her and the girl and there was no excuse. Her hand pulled at his chin, forcefully turning his head to look at her. She raised her brow as he looked at her. Her expression, her composure had stayed the same. Charlie was looking at him in the way she always had, like he was an idiot she cared for.

"I am dangerous." He gestured, emphasising his point he brushed past the mark he had left on her neck. Instead of pulling away she got closer to him and smiled. "Yeah. You will be when you get out of here. You're about to grow so much." she said softly, tilting her head. Stiles let out a breath and hung his head. This girl was not going to get it.

"No." she said, without any embellishments pulling back his eyes. "That back there, wasn't the supernatural being. That was the result of you making decisions for the wrong reasons. You needed strength, and you knew that he could provide that. But let me tell you something, he did not provide shit! That strength is yours. Possession doesn't add to physical capabilities. That was all you."

Stiles simply blinked and looked at her dazed. "Maybe you have some residual strength from when that creature took you over out there. But without it, you are just as powerful." She prodded a finger into his chest. He felt himself warm up, the numbness in his limbs was disappearing as she spoke. "I don't know if I can keep him out." He muttered, locked in her hand. Charlie squeezed his lips into a pout. "Yes you can. You kicked him out."

"Only take him in if you know you can take him." Her lips curled into a grin. He could only nod and sigh, though it sounded like another ridiculous stick it to the man mantra, or a horrible line from a gay porno, it made sense. Her perpetual optimism in his capabilities was endearing and frustrating. He had never met anyone quite like her. Sure he had met several strong characters, but she was kind to him and nonjudgmental, when she had every right to turn on him. There was pain in her eyes, and old wounds but they seemed to only make her gentler, however harsh she acted. The years she had spent here did a number on her behaviour, but her heart had only grown to me more loving, and forgiving.

He wanted to thank her, to touch her, but her expression changed. It saddened and her body slumped against the couch. As if her batteries had been removed. "Charlie?" He whispered, holding her by the shoulder, in search of her eyes. Half lidded she nodded. "Lizzie." she muttered, as she reached to clutch her own arms. Charlie knew of Lizzie's desire to die, it hadn't been so hard to detect, especially as they had known each other for so long. She was practically her mother, there was no way she had missed it, the tired eyes, her sluggish movement, her absent gazes and hesitation when fighting, but it still came as a surprise that she would speak of it. She hadn't seemed the type to open up about anything.

But it stayed with that one word. Her eyes slowly watered but with a single blink she collected herself, and smiled at him again. "Read to me from the book?" She offered, uncharacteristically quiet, pointing at the notebook that had been abandoned in their talk. He fished it from the ground. He was anxious to read on and so he flipped over the cover and fingered the paper until he found the chapter on his mother. Charlie pulled out underneath herself and lifted herself from the sofa, with some difficulty and jerked her head towards the other end of the room. "Mind reading in bed?"

Stiles stirred immediately and took her hand. Yet she headed into the opposite direction, her bedroom was on the left, yet she was heading to a door on the right. She turned on her heel, and flashed him a brief smile. "We'll take the spare room. don't want to wake Lizzie." Stiles' brows ticked together in confusion. There had been a spare room? Why hadn't say said that in the first place? He could have slept there, and why didn't- oh god. It only crossed his mind then that she might be interested in something completely different.

His gut tugged beneath his belly button and he began to sweat as the opened the door. The room was not as gloomy as her own. The walls were covered in drawings, which seemed to vary in difficulty and skill. There was an almost annoying high poly carpet, a seemingly normal bed with an ungodly amount of pillows, and then the usual furniture one might expect in a bedroom. Charlie had started to throw pillows onto the ground and turned to look at him.

His stomach dropped, and he was pretty sure he looked like a deer caught in headlights as he couldn't spread his eyes any further. He wanted to say something, heck he wanted to say anything but not a single peep would leave his lips, actually something did leave his lips, they just weren't words. He had been making a breathy squeak like noise for the past ten seconds, eyeing Charlie who's brows had been raised to her hairline. Then she smiled and his stomach dropped as she held out her hand.

His palms had gotten incredibly sweaty but he took her hand nonetheless and sat down beside her. The duvet felt odd beneath him, but then again the whole situation did. She was looking at him in a way that knotted his guts together in a big pile of tension. As her lips parted to speak he was practically overcome by the urge to plant his on there. "Close your eyes." She said sternly, nodding her head slightly.

His heart began beating as he muttered and okay and reluctantly closed is eyes. He knew the normal feeling could be described as having butterflies in your stomach, but that wasn't true at all. His stomach was filled with a lead anvil lined with tickling fingers, Just what was going on? Was she going to kiss him? Is that something she wanted? Was she expecting him to kiss her, but then why did he have to close his eyes?

He heard Charlie rustle and then her cloth covered hand against his cheek, two of her fingers tracing the shell of his ear, making him shiver. "Okay." Her voice rang as thunder as the entire room remained quiet, all he could hear was her, the rustling of the bed, and the beating of his own heart. "Part your lips a little?" there was something devious about her tone, but endearing all the same.

He had decided to go along with anything as soon as he had stepped over the threshold. He wasn't going to deny her whatever she required, not after what he had done to her, however unhealthy that sounded. He wasn't going to lie, whatever happened, he probably dreamed it up in his mind a long time ago. He could feel her lean closer and so he slightly parted his lips. He pulled up his hands, letting them hover somewhere between the bed and anything else. He felt awkward as her lips remained absent, wanting to open his eyes to see what went on when something did touch upon them. Small, round, and salty?

He pried open his eyes to find Charlie hunched over, clutching her stomach and covering her mouth as she snickered against them. He reached for his mouth to find a salty stick there, between his lips like a thin cigarette. Charlie let out a vicious chuckle and grabbed his shoulder as he reeled in the stick with his tongue and chewed it. She had tricked him and he would be laughing if he wasn't absolutely mortified.

In his mind she had already beared down on him and they were entangled in an exchange of all things sinful, which wasn't at all hard to imagine, as he already studied her back view quite extensively and it had popped into is mind at a three minute interval ever since, but instead she was smiling and squeezing his shoulder. "You can put away the distressed eyes, Stiles." She managed to utter after calming down. "I won't try to bed you, I promise."

Stiles could only utter an awkward laugh before erupting into an apology slash excuse about how he had not meant to imply anything of the sort, but he soon enough stopped himself from blabbering. He let out a breath and tried to calm himself down, having Charlie sit down out of sight, behind him, surely did help. He collected himself and turned towards him when he was convinced he had stopped blushing. His ear however, still tingled.

She had retrieved the box of salty sticks from one of her many pockets and was sporting three of them between her patted the duvet besides her and smiled, though her earlier amusement seemed to have faded. Her expression had tired, which was surely down to the cut on her ribcage. He too had been aching but felt out of place giving into it, as the two girls had remained within the lines and not once slipped.

The room had gotten eerily quiet as Charlie had leaned back against her pillowed headboard and had taken to admiring the artwork on her walls. Lizzie had remained in the other bedroom, and the creature outside had been gone for what seemed like hours. It struck him then that he had yet to be answered on the beast. He turned to his companion and cleared his throat, alerting her.

"That thing, that came after us." He started, hoping she'd catch the hint and continue on her own. She shifted and pressed her hand against her brow in irritation. "Look I-" she barked sharply, but shook her head after. "It's mine." She concluded as if she had decided against her earlier line what could only have meant rejecting the question. She was going to trust him. "You have your fox demon, I have the creature you saw earlier."

She sounded sharp and emotionless but her eyes had changed, it could have been the exhaustion or pain but he could definitely see them glaze over. Stiles nodded once, to acknowledge that he had understood it, it wasn't hard to believe, she had been here for an extremely long time, enough time to build up some serious regrets and bad decisions.

Regrets?

"The faces. They're the people you couldn't save." Stiles concluded, saying it as cautious as he could. Her expression left no room for debate, he had hit the nail right on the head. She seemed relieved somehow, like she was grateful she didn't have to spell it out for him. It probably hurt her, saying it out loud. Hearing it from someone else's lips couldn't have felt great either though.

"It can't be beaten by any normal means." She sighed, pressing a hand against her forehead. The term normal made him smile however, it was not a word he would have ever used to describe anything in this place. "We blind it, and hide." She continued. "I blind it." she corrected for no apparent reason before turning to him. "Read to me?"

He leaned back beside her, as she linked her arm in his, her shoulder neatly stuffed away against his shoulder. He felt awkward reading his mother's words out loud, especially to her, but it somehow made it easier. She now and again nodded, muttered an okay, or offered him a snack while he read.

"My son, he's by my bed when I wake up. He used to have such tiny hands but they're getting bigger. He's holding mine, I can feel it, even now. I won't be there to hold those hands when he gets bigger. Someone needs to hold his hands for me."

Stiles swallowed down the lump that had started to form in his throat, croaking up his voice. She made a noise, not allowing him to feel alone. She squeezed his arm and smiled up at him, like she understood that his heart was breaking. It was probably why she wanted him to read in bed with her, so he wouldn't be alone. He could miss them, miss them both, miss all of them, and not feel lonely.

He closed to notebook slowly, he couldn't read another word as his mother's dialog was coming to an end, there was only one more page to go. Charlie muttered an okay and took it from his hands, slowly. It was a good feeling, knowing that she understood. For once in what had seemed like ages, he felt like he wasn't losing his mind. These last two days had been more clear to him, with all their chaos than the last few looked at the girl who seemed to have made herself a nest in his chest and arms, as she had tangled herself up in his limbs, she was looking up at him. "How do you feel?"

"Bruised and raw. We gotta find a way to communicate besides beating the crap out of each other." He said joking, trying a small smile, which she copied. "Please, I went easy on your pasty ass." She said mocking, frowning and pouting her lips. Stiles only nodded and let out a breath.

"Do you think you can sleep?"

He looked back down at her, her eyes had glazed over, the whites of her eyes and been decorated with red veins, and dark circles had sunken her eyes. She was exhausted. "yeah." He lied, wrapping his arm around her. She was cold, and had been shivering against him. He had hardly finished that one word and she had already lowered her head against his chest. In a matter of seconds she had fallen asleep.

Her head was heavy against him, but he couldn't even think of moving it.


End file.
